


Teenage Wasteland

by Khirsah



Series: Teenage Wasteland [1]
Category: Young Avengers
Genre: Bullying, First Time, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-10-04 22:23:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 58,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khirsah/pseuds/Khirsah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billy leaned forward a little, watching as Teddy found a felt-tipped pen and began searching for a slip of paper. The napkins were all balled up and messy; the placemats were splattered with gravy. "Erm," Billy said, half afraid Teddy would change his mind.</p><p>"Here," Teddy finally said, turning toward him. He caught Billy's hand between his own and turned it over, palm-up, his fingers calloused and warm against Billy's smooth skin. He smelled like…like something amazing.</p><p>Oh, oh, wow, Billy thought dazedly, squeezing his knees together against the liquid rush of heat low in his belly; the glide of the pen against his palm was the most arousing thing he'd ever felt. The sight of Teddy's golden hair falling into his face made him want to do something incredibly stupid, like lean forward and kiss him, or throw his arms around his neck, or… Or something. Anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Declaration of Incompetence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meadow Lion](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Meadow+Lion).
  * Translation into Português brasileiro available: [Teenage Wasteland - Tradução em Português Br](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3283256) by [NatyHunter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatyHunter/pseuds/NatyHunter)



> Warning: This series contains frank and sometimes uncomfortable depictions of bullying--both physical (as with Billy and Kessler) and emotional (as with Teddy and Greg). Any scene with Greg has the potential to be triggering for people who have suffered abuse. I will try to warn for specifics where possible, but please keep this in mind when reading. While the series ends with a happily ever after, Billy and Teddy do go through a lot to get there.
> 
>  
> 
> The final scene contains dialog lifted from the comics.

**CaptnAmazing:** Hey, Billy. Still awake?  
**Avngerfan2119:** Eh. Awake enough. Everything still on for tomorrow?  
**CaptnAmazing:** Yeah—my train gets in around 4, so I'll meet you at 5. I can't wait to be back in the city. Boarding school sucks.  
**Avngerfan2119:** You mean you don't sit around and braid each other's hair all day?  
**CaptnAmazing:** Suck it, Kaplan. Hey, don't forget to bring my Cap.  
**CaptnAmazing:** And don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. I know you still have him.  
**Avngerfan2119:** Yeah, I've got him. But can't you just reclaim him when you come over?  
**CaptnAmazing:** I want to show Joseph. He's got a Cap figurine, but it's crap and I want to introduce him to _quality_. Just bring him, ok? You can smuggle him in your backpack.  
**Avngerfan2119:** Fine.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Everything ok? Jackhole isn't bothering you again, is he?  
**CaptnAmazing:** Want me to kick his ass? I may be scrawny, but I'm scrappy.  
**Avngerfan2119:** Nah, it's fine. I'll see you tomorrow. Night, Jamie.  
**CaptnAmazing:** You sure everything's ok?  
**_12:23 am: Avngerfan2119 is away._**  
**CaptnAmazing:** Night.

**

2:41 and counting.

Billy looked down at his U.S. History book and tried to concentrate, but the words kept swimming in front of his eyes. He was painfully aware of the clock counting down the minutes to winter break—three full weeks of freedom, away from school, away from Kesler, away from everything.

2:49 and counting.

Mr. Carlson hadn't even bothered trying to make them do work. "You'll forget everything over the break anyway," he'd said with a sigh, shoulders drooping beneath a faded argyle sweater. "Just read Chapter Six and try not to make too much noise."

Most of the kids hadn't even cracked open their books. They were all huddled together in small clusters, leaning over the arms of their desks and whispering. The occasional raised voice earned a half-hearted rebuke, but mostly Mr. Carlson kept to his own desk, ignoring the little hives of activity.

Billy watched as one of the girls covered a laugh with her hand, reddish hair falling over her shoulders. She glanced toward the clock and he heard a few scattered words: "beer," "tonight," "kissing," "party," "lame." He cocked his head, curious, but turned back to his book with a flush when she caught his gaze and narrowed heavily lined eyes at him.

Right. No. Reading.

He turned the page, skimming over sentences at random. He didn't care that there was a party, anyway; he was never invited and wasn't sure what he'd do if he was. Probably spend the entire night wedged firmly in a corner waiting for the pig's blood to come raining down. Not that he wanted to go all _Carrie_ on their asses. Most days, anyway.

Billy looked up. 2:58 and counting.

He shut the book and stuffed it into his bookbag, eager for the final bell. _Three full weeks_, he told himself, ignoring the flurry of whispers rising steadily in volume. His best friend would be home, and they'd spend the vacation going from comic book store to comic book store and keeping their eyes peeled for Avengers. It would be great.

3:00.

Billy was on his feet at the first shrill chime, darting ahead of the swarm of students. Mr. Carlson called out something about being safe and having a great holiday, but Billy lost the words in the sound of doors opening up and down the hall and students surging out of their classes. He slipped around a laughing girl and pressed against the bank of lockers to avoid a cheerleader and her boyfriend, muscles going tight in a familiar heady blend of anxiety and anticipation. It was a madhouse, excitement heavy on the air. He could practically taste freedom.

_If I hurry_, Billy thought, _maybe I can make it out of here without a fight_.

He clutched his bookbag against his body and wended his way through the mass of kids. Lockers slammed up and down the hall and the stairwells echoed with calls of "See you at 10!" and "Don't forget the fucking beer!"

The air was electric.

Billy glanced at his watch as he rounded a corner, hugging the wall to avoid collision. 3:03. No way would Kesler get out of English and through the crowded halls in time. He could already feel tension melting away, excitement building. It would be good to be around friends again. Friend. His one true friend, really. God, he'd missed having someone to talk to.

He dropped his bookbag on the cracked linoleum and crouched in front of his locker. They would hit Midtown first, of course, before making their way to Cosmic Comics. It'd probably be a good idea to save The Strand for earlier in the day, so they could avoid the tourists at Union Square. Maybe they could wander through the Village, Billy mused. There were some pretty good second-hand stores there. A few racier places, too, with titillating window displays he could never bring himself to look at directly despite the small rainbow stickers over the doors.

Well. Maybe _because_ of them.

Billy flushed and shoved his books into his locker, slamming it shut. He glanced down the hall as he stood, slinging the strap over his shoulder, but he only got four quick steps away before he felt the buzzing of his phone against his thigh. Billy shifted and dug into his pocket, anxiously scanning the halls before checking its face.

**212-555-9078:** _bring me cap or face my wrath_

Shit.

Billy hesitated, anxiously tearing at a tooth-snagged fingernail before turning back, shoving the phone into his pocket. If he hurried... If he _hurried_... He crouched in front of his locker and spun the dial with suddenly trembling fingers. 8, 22, 10. No, crap, he'd gone too far. Billy muffled an annoyed curse and tried again, then again, forcing himself to slow.

8…

22…

10…

He hadn't bothered to put his books away neatly and everything came tumbling out in a tangled mess, spilling over his lap and scattering across the floor. "Fuck," Billy groaned, snagging the carefully wrapped action figure and setting it aside before shoving everything else back in place. The pile nearly toppled again, wobbling threateningly, but Billy managed to slam the door shut in time, spinning the dial with more force than necessary. He grabbed the bundle and jumped to his feet, glancing at his watch. _Shit shit shit_. If he didn't run for it, he'd get caught for sure. He darted into the crowd, shoulders hunched tight, but Billy knew it was too late even before the big, rough hand shot out to grab him by the collar.

 

_Damn it. God damn it._

 

"You're in a hurry, Kaplan," Kesler said, dragging Billy back toward the row of bright orange lockers. A crooked smile stretched his face as his dark brows lifted in mock concern. "Got a hot date?"

Billy hunched in on himself, holding his bookbag in front of him as if it were a shield: Captain America's shield, only Captain America wasn't here and Billy wasn't any kind of hero. He couldn't even answer, Billy realized with sinking dread; his throat was dry, and all he wanted to do was run.

Kesler glanced over at his friends, two beefy guys in lettermen jackets. "Bet you anything Kaplan's got a date. What's his name?"

They were circling closer, penning him in. Billy glanced desperately down the hall, but no one was paying attention. No one cared—or if they did, they were too frightened to get involved. He didn't blame them; he'd feel the same way if their roles had been reversed. He'd hate himself, maybe, but he'd look away.

Damn it, why did this always have to happen to _him_?

Billy squeezed his eyes shut, murmuring under his breath, but that simply made Kesler shake him—so hard his teeth rattled—before saying in an eerily light, almost conversational tone, "What'd you say, Billy? You're going to have to talk louder than that."

Billy didn't look up. He slouched further down, like a turtle desperately trying to crawl into its shell, and his grip tightened on the figure of Captain America hidden in its newspaper wrapping. "Nothing," he said. "I didn't say anything."

"That's what I thought."

One of the other boys, Slatterly, reached out to casually pluck the bookbag from his arms. Billy tried to grab it back, but Kesler was there to slam him back against the bank of lockers, big body pinning him in with quiet, menacing strength. "Check the inner pockets," he instructed, eyes never leaving Billy's face. His breath was hot and sweet. Intimate against his face.

Billy’s stomach twisted into hard knots, eyes fixed on the floor.

"What's this?" the third boy, Jones, asked, grabbing the wrapped bundle from Billy's weakened grip.

_No!_ Billy jolted upright with sick anxiety, eyes flying up to the boy's face, and he reacted without thinking, snatching Cap back with a lightning-fast move. "No," he said, trying to shove the bundle behind his back, but Kesler grabbed him by his collar and jerked him up onto the balls of his feet. Billy tried to tense up against the attack, but it was useless: his head lolled back as he fought to get his feet under him. The back of his skull slammed against the lockers with a sickeningly familiar _crack_.

He desperately squeezed his eyes shut, heart beating so fast in his chest he thought it would burst. There was a part of him that almost wanted that to happen—at least then they'd leave him alone.

It didn’t. Instead, he grit his teeth as he was dropped back onto his feet and shoved against the cold metal. One of the locks bit into his shoulder, another into his hip. His head was beginning to ache so badly that he couldn't even protest when the figure was pried from his fingers and passed back to Kesler's friend.

"What is it?" Kesler asked, eyes locked on Billy's face. He'd finally let go, but Billy felt just as trapped as before. He couldn't run—he'd never manage to slip away. They were bigger, they were stronger, and, most importantly, they were willing to _hurt him_.

Billy looked up and watched with growing acceptance as Jones unwrapped the newsprint to expose the red-white-and-blue figure, created by a local artist and cleverly sculpted to look just like the real man—not just in his features (though everything was accurate down to the corded strength in his hands and the square of his jaw), but also somehow in the _feeling_ of Captain America: Strength. Courage. Pride. Ever-enduring possibility.

He looked like a hero. And Billy wanted to rip him out of Jones' hands with a ferocity that overwhelmed him.

"Oh. It's just a _doll_," Jones said, dropping Cap carelessly onto the grungy tiles. Billy made a strangled noise and moved as if to grab for him, but Kesler slammed him back against the lockers with another bone-deep lurch. "I don't fucking think so, Kaplan," he snarled, kicking Cap away into the thinning herd of students.

_Where are all the teachers_? Billy thought wildly, desperately, before his eyes tracked back to Kesler's face. It loomed over his, too close—familiar, hated features twisted into an amused sneer.

"Well?" Kesler said, beefy fingers twisted in the collar of Billy's shirt and threatening body close enough that the tension was almost...sexual. "Anything else?"

"A few dollars," Slatterly said as he dropped Billy's bookbag, wallet spilling out. "That's it. Let's get out of here—he doesn't have anything else worth taking."

Kesler didn't break eye contact. He held out one hand for the money, then blindly shoved it into his pocket. "Looks like you're free to go," he said lightly, grip loosening. He stepped back to give Billy space and then laughed when he didn't move. "Well, come on," he said with an ugly smile. "Run away, Kaplan. _Happy Hanukkah._"

Billy swallowed, palms braced against the cool metal lockers, then forced himself into action. He grabbed his bookbag and shoved his wallet back inside as he hurried past the trio of boys. But he only got two steps before a lanky leg shot out and sent him sprawling across the dirty floor. Hoots of laughter echoed down the hallway and Billy swallowed back a surge of pure rage, building inside him white and hot, like lightning.

But he didn't get up, didn't even move, and eventually they turned and walked away—leaving Billy sprawled messily across the linoleum floor, staring at Captain America's little plastic face and wishing with all his heart that he, Billy Kaplan, punching bag of the entire fucking universe, had the power to do anything at all.

**

**212-555-9078:** youre late, loser  
**212-555-8743: ** yeah, sorry, be there soon  
**212-555-9078:** fabio and i will be waiting

**

"What about _him_? He's a looker."

"Hm?" Billy blew his bangs out of his eyes and kept digging through the battered cardboard box. Jude Deveraux, Danielle Steele, Danielle Steele, Ann Rule, Anne Rice, Cassie Edwards. "Oh, hey, Native American Fabio. Check that off bargain book bingo," he said, straightening to flash the book at his friend.

Jamie leaned close, nearly unbalancing the wobbly stool he was perched on, and frowned down at the well-read book. "I think we already got that one," he said slowly, rocking back onto four legs with a clatter. "Keep an eye open for Vikings, though. I know we don't have any of those."

"Viking Fabio: check." Billy rolled up a lagging sleeve and dove back in, pushing aside old westerns and stock thrillers. "You'd think there'd be some speculative fiction in here. It's the Village—the geeks couldn't have all fled for Brooklyn."

"He really is pretty hot, you know."

Billy looked up with a frown, rubbing a streak of sweat across his brow. It prickled with salt and heat. "Who, Fabio?"

Jamie rolled his eyes and jabbed his finger toward a boy browsing the racks across the room. "No, dipshit, that guy. The looker. He's pretty hot, right?"

Billy glanced over, then quickly away, afraid of being caught staring. _Stop being such a putz_, he told himself viciously. Shoving his fingers through his hair, Billy looked up again, following Jamie's line of sight. 

Tall. Thin. Dressed in black with a bike chain looped around his skinny waist, spiky hair falling into his eyes. 

"Hipster," Billy said dismissively, turning back to the book bin. He felt the embarrassing little shiver of disappointment, like always, but he forced himself to tuck that away. Jamie was trying. He appreciated that.

"Hipsters can't be hot?" The other boy hopped off the stool to help Billy re-load the rejects, tossing the paperbacks casually into a jumbled pile. "I thought hipsters could be hot if they, you know, bathed. Oh, hey, she's practically naked," he added in clear delight, opening a cover to get a good look at the inside splash. Billy laughed and shook his head, carefully rearranging the jumbled books so that their spines faced outward. Jamie had been Billy's friend since pre-school; he'd traded sandwiches in elementary school, played Spider-Man in middle, and listened to Billy's stuttering, flame-faced attempt to come out the summer between eighth and ninth grade, right before Jamie's parents sent him away to a fancy boarding school upstate.

"Um, hey, wow," Jamie had said, looking anywhere but at Billy. Billy hadn't been able to look at him, either—he'd barely been able to look at himself when, glancing up, he'd caught his own reflection in Jamie's sticker-covered mirror: pale and small and thin as a bird. He'd even looked like a…like...

But then Jamie had reached over and slid an action figure into Billy's spasmodically clenching hands. Johnny Storm, all blonde hair and shit-eating grin. "I bet the Human Torch would totally do you," Jamie had said solemnly, and the whole thing had somehow turned into an epic wrestling match, comic books scattering, action figures flying, Jamie howling, "Flame on! Flame on!" as Billy growled between laughs, "I'll kick your ass."

It would have been better if Jamie still went to school with him, Billy mused, but so long as he knew there was _someone_ out there who thought that he was okay, he was mostly content.

"She kind of looks like Sam, don't you think?"

Billy squinted at the big-chested blonde in the badly drooping red dress and tried to picture her with a ponytail and freckles. Samantha Gardner was a neighborhood girl whose family had moved to the Upper East sometime between third and fourth grade. She was pretty and personable and more than a little smart, so she was immediately popular…and immediately out of Jamie's league despite her occasional overtures of friendship. Not that Billy would ever _say_ that to him. "Uh. Sure."

"Do you think she'd go out with me? If I went to CPE with you guys, I mean?"

Billy didn't hesitate; he never did. "Of course she would," he said, not letting a trace of doubt slip through. There was no room for doubt in pure fantasy. "She'd have to be stupid not to. You have the biggest Avengers action figure collection this side of the Mississippi."

Jamie pointed at him. "Right? Totally a catch."

"A supreme catch."

"And after I dazzled her with busts of Thor and Iron Man, I'd show her my collection of signed comic book sketches—"

"Always a winner."

"—and bad poetry I've been saving up about her sunny-side smile and brazenly naked body."

Billy laughed and pushed at Jamie's shoulder, reaching to grab his bookbag from where he'd dropped it earlier. "See? You're such a charmer, she'd be sure to melt all over you if you just gave her half the chance. Which you never do."

Jamie shook his head, hands shoving into his pockets as he rocked back onto his heels. "Yeah, thanks Dr. Phil, but I'll start taking love advice from you when you've graduated past making out with your pillow at night."

"Aw, Jamie." He pressed a hand over his heart. "That cuts deep. You know I've been making out with _your_ pillow for years." Billy ducked away from the half-hearted shoulder-punch, laughing, for once unself-conscious of the eyes drawn his way. Let them look; what did he care? "And besides," he added, walking backward, "that's Dr. Ruth, thank you."

"Uh-huh. Oh, hey, Billy, watch o—"

Too late. Billy's shoulder clipped the edge of a bookshelf and he course-corrected, half-turning. It was the turn that got him, sending him crashing headlong into the arms of someone big and muscular and male. Time seemed to go slow and stretched thin at that. Like he’d stumbled into some kind of romantic comedy, only, fuck, it wasn't _funny_. Even so, big hands grabbed him for balance, he grabbed a fistful of cotton in return, and the two of them teetered and swayed for a long, embarrassing minute as their shuffling limbs got into each other's way.

Finally, when balance was restored, the boy dropped his hands and Billy let go. He looked up with a startled noise, meeting remarkably pretty eyes rimmed in too-long lashes, and felt something deep inside him twist in mingled pleasure and mortification. Billy wet his lips as he pulled back, searching for an apology and increasingly aware of a faintly spicy, expensive smell. It was...it was really, _really_ nice.

"Sorry," he sputtered, cheeks going red. The boy looked down at him with a frown, seeming to expand and fill up the cramped aisle with every second that passed. "I wasn't looking."

"Yeah, I got that, _Dr. Ruth_."

The sneer was a bucket of ice water down his spine. Billy took another instinctive step back as the dark-haired boy crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at him, one brow arched in challenge. Billy should have known Impossibly Hot Guy was an asshole. They were all assholes. That was the rule of the frigging universe.

"Yeah, uh, like I said," Billy murmured, backing away slowly. Jamie had already retreated halfway down one of the stacks, warily watching. "Sorry."

He thought for a moment the guy would grab for him, and he could hear in his head the sound of bells ringing and lockers slamming. Every neighborhood was a schoolyard, somehow, and he never could seem to shake the bullies. But then the overhead speakers crackled and began to play something upbeat and Impossibly Hot Asshole shrugged and let his arms drop.

"Just watch where you're going next time," he said, slouching away with effortless cool. "Fag."

Billy froze where he was, shoulders hunching instinctively. He didn't hear Jamie come up behind him and didn't respond when a warm, comforting hand touched his arm.

"Hey," Jamie said, voice low. "Since when can dickfaces read?"

Billy shrugged him off. All he wanted, in that moment, was for the ground to open up and swallow him whole—no, better than that: he wanted the whole _world_ to invert itself around him, pulling him somewhere warm and alone, far away from bullies and best friends who meant well.

"No, seriously," Jamie continued earnestly, brows drawn together. "If it wasn't about you being, you know, it'd be about something else. Guys like that are always assholes. There's a kid at my school who calls me Jew-for-Brains. Can you believe that? Jew-for-Brains. What does that even mean?"

"Yeah. It doesn't matter," Billy lied, looking up with a faint smile. "Hey, didn't you want to check out the art books?"

Jamie snorted, visibly relaxing. "With Assmunch trolling around looking for nerdlings to accost? Not likely. Want to head down to Shake Shack? We could hit up the comic book store there."

Billy glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of the dark-haired boy. He was leaning against the counter chatting up the salesgirl. The way the light came in through the dusky window made his hair glow glossy and dark. He was still so hot, even though Billy knew he was a jerk, and he flushed in an anxious mix of annoyance and awareness. "You go ahead," he said, fitfully shifting the strap of his bookbag. "I'll catch up with you in a few minutes."

Jamie looked wary. "Billy…"

"I just want to look at the used CDs. Go, get us a place in line. I'll be there soon," he promised. Jamie set his jaw stubbornly, but Billy merely rocked back on his heels, waiting him out. He could sense Jamie's instinctual urge to flee. He couldn't blame him; he felt the same way. Avoidance was the best trick he knew to keep himself all in one piece.

But even though he didn't want to stand up to Impossibly Hot Asshole—he wasn't stupid—he didn't want to run away either. Not today. He'd gotten his fill of his own cowardice already. "Seriously. Go claim us a place in line. If I'm late, you can send the Avengers to rescue my scrawny butt."

Jamie pointed at him in warning. "The Avengers are in space right now, remember? So don't be stupid." But he backed away a step and headed down one of the stacks toward the door. "Fifteen minutes!"

"Right," Billy said, mostly to himself. He glanced toward the front register again, stomach giving an unpleasant lurch, before turning and heading to the back of the store. He skirted past the idly browsing hipster, murmuring an apology, and trotted down the stairs to the basement level. The light was even dimmer here and the bookshelves even more unsteady. Billy gripped the chipped metal railing and jumped down the last steps, sneakers slapping against worn concrete. The sound system didn't reach down here, and the farther he moved into the stacks the more distant the soulful crooning became. Instead, he could hear the soft rustle of paper and click of jewel cases; a woman in a purple hoodie whistled as she read the back of a penny dreadful.

Billy stopped at a large bin of used CDs and dropped his bag at his feet, glancing around the room in a quick, instinctual survey before beginning to thumb through cracked cases. Most of the music was shitty, of course, but that was the way of the bargain basement.

He stopped to look at a psychedelic cover, letting his attention wander as his eyes focused on the swirls of color.

It had been a rough day. His shoulder ached and he was pretty sure there'd be bruises on his shins. Still, it was better than he'd feared; lately Kesler content to shake him up for money and leave bruises where they wouldn't show—still painful, still humiliating, but at least he could shrug them off without his mother fretting or his brothers promising to sweep in and protect him like mini Captain Americas.

He sighed, shrugging his shoulders violently, and let the CD he'd been studying fall back into place. His brothers didn't seem to have any problems at their school; if anything, they were popular—well-liked, athletic, unharassed. _Maybe there really is something wrong with me,_ Billy thought as he flipped through the jewel cases so quickly that the colors blurred together like a phantasmagoric kaleidoscope. _Or maybe they knew how to cut it all off at the pass. They didn't roll over and take any shit at that pivotal moment that separates the regular boys from the prey._

He wondered if he'd had it in him to refuse to back down when he was their age. He wondered if he had it in him now.

Then someone stepped next to him and a shoulder brushed his, very lightly. The tinny blare of music was unmistakable: "_Biiillly, don't be a heeeeero_."

Jamie.

"Damn it, that's not funny!" Billy snapped, even though, well, it sort of was. He whirled to face Jamie anyway, in no mood to be teased...and froze when he met a pair of startled blue eyes.

Crap. Not Jamie.

The boy blinked at him slowly and reached up to tug the earbuds out. The music blared louder, wires dangling down his chest, and Billy felt a hot wave of mortification wash over him. The boy was tall and muscular; a striped grey and black sweater stretched across his broad shoulders. He had casually messy blond hair and perfectly symmetrical features, like a painting or a model or something. He was even hotter than Impossibly Hot Asshole, and Billy hated how aware he was of that.

"Sorry," Billy mumbled, heart sinking.

The blond smiled, dimples flashing at the corners of his mouth. Of course he had dimples. "Hey, no, you're right," he said, and he had a _great_ voice. Deep and warm and just a little old school Brooklyn. "Paper Lace is nothing to joke about."

Billy fought against the inevitable flush of heat. _Well, at least he isn't treating you like a punching bag_, he reminded himself. _So there's that_.

"Boomtown Rats, though," the boy added, reaching over Billy to snag a CD. The plastic was busted open and the lining had faded along the corners. "Now there's a band that's just asking for it."

Billy glanced up to meet blue eyes and gradually felt his shoulders begin to relax as they smiled at each other. The tone had been light, teasing, but not mocking. His face was handsome—holy hell, so handsome—and friendly. It was the friendliness that made him so attractive, Billy decided, smile slowly widening. He didn't look like the sort of guy who tripped you in the hallway or called you a...whatever.

Still. He'd learned to be cautious. "Not a fan?" he asked, going for casual even though it had never sounded cool on him. Billy twitched a shoulder in an absent, anxious move, but then forced himself to go very still. He radiated geek, he knew he did, but that didn't mean he had to radiate it _now_.

The boy laughed again, absently flipping the CD between his big hands. There was a strap of leather around his left wrist, studded with dulled copper; it looked old and worn in, and it probably smelled like sweat and sunshine. "They're fine," he said. "I was just grasping for idle conversation. Word fail, I guess. I'm Teddy," he added.

"Billy. Hey."

Teddy's grin widened, dimples flashing again. "Billy, huh? That's ironic."

"Yeah, well. I promise not to make any lame jokes about time travel."

"Exxxcellent."

Billy snorted, then cleared his throat, flushing, but Teddy didn't seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t _care_, which was even better. "Billy, though—I guess that explains why the song pissed you off." He leaned over to drop the CD back in the bin, idly flipping through without really looking at the covers. His gaze was focused squarely on Billy, scanning his face and scrawny shoulders.

Billy couldn't remember the last time a boy his age had looked at him with so much interest without the underlying thread of malice. He couldn't help the way his stomach twisted in pleasure, or the quickening of his heartbeat. "I thought you were my friend," he explained weakly. "There was this guy, and I got upset, and I thought Jamie was—" Billy stopped himself, shaking his head. "Never mind. I thought you were my friend, anyway. I usually don't snap at random strangers."

"That's a pretty good stance to take, in this city. Or, you know, in life." There was a brief, awkward silence, and then, "What are you looking for?"

Billy glanced away. "I don't know; whatever. You?"

"Whatever, yeah."

Small talk sucked. Billy hated it, and he knew he was failing miserably. _Think of something_, he told himself, fiercely trying to come up with a question that wasn't completely stupid. He was no good at keeping casual conversations going, especially when...

Well. Especially when he thought the other guy was hot, but _that_, he told himself firmly, was neither here nor there. He wasn't going to start letting his unruly brain churn out ridiculous and unrealizable fantasies about every guy he met. "Um," he said, feeling a little desperate. Teddy was focusing on the CDs again. "Find any good books?"

Teddy looked up, jerking his chin to flip a longish strand of blond hair out of his eyes. "A couple. You?"

"Just Fabio."

Shit. He shouldn't have said that—he knew he shouldn't have. Billy bit the inside of his lip, bracing for impact, but Teddy just grinned as if he got the joke. "Fabio Bingo? Or are you a fan of heaving bosums?"

"Uh, the former. Not that there's anything wrong with a…a…uh, nice pair of... I can't finish this sentence with dignity."

"Dignity’s for the weak of spirit. Do you come here often?"

"I do, yeah," Billy said. "Here or the Strand, if I don't mind tripping over people every few feet."

"Every season is Tourist Season. God bless New York." Teddy looked up through his lashes, grinning, and Billy found himself answering the smile shyly. He opened his mouth to say something else—he wasn't sure what yet—when the moment was broken by the sound of heavy footfalls and a casually mocking voice said, "Teddy, you done? I got what we needed."

Billy looked up with a start, heart sinking. Impossibly Hot Asshole cocked a dark brow, glancing between him and Teddy with open curiosity. He had a slip of paper in his hand and a number scrawled in blue ink on the meat of his palm. He looked like every teenage television hero Billy had ever seen.

"Greg," Teddy said, and Billy had to turn his head to look at him again—he had to. The blond hair, the square jaw, the bright eyes and broad shoulders and gym-fresh muscles. Teddy looked like Impossibly Hot Asshole—like Greg. He fit with him.

Blue eyes met his, and Billy could read the apology there even as Greg grabbed Billy by his collar and tugged him back before shoving him away. Not hard—certainly not as hard as Kesler had—but it stung all the same. "Come on, scram," Greg said carelessly, slinging an arm over Teddy's shoulders when it looked like Teddy would go after Billy. "And _you_—we've got a party to go to. They'd be pretty disappointed if the guest of honor didn't show up, yeah?"

Billy rubbed at a bruised elbow, cheeks crimson, trying to will himself invisible. He could feel eyes on him, but he didn't have the courage to look up and meet them. Or maybe, he thought angrily to himself, he just didn't have the _stomach_.

"Yeah," Teddy said slowly, after a long minute. He sounded resigned, and maybe a little sad. Whatever. Fuck him. "Yeah, right, okay."

Billy didn't look up from the ugly stained concrete until their footsteps had died away.

**

**212-555-9078:** you dead or something?  
**212-555-9078:** your mom will be pissed at me if i let you die  
**212-555-9078:** come on, assmunch, answer me  
**212-555-8743: ** im fine! hold your horses, be there soon  
**212-555-9078:** good. shackburgers waiting. mm, tasty murder

**

Several nights later, Billy sat on the floor, leaning back against the arm of the family room couch and staring moodily up at the television. His brothers were bickering a few feet away, squabble rising and falling in angry hisses and pained grunts as they took occasional swipes at each other.

"Shut up."

"You shut up. I called dibs."

"You can't call dibs!"

"That's funny. I seem to remember calling it."

"But that's not fair, buttface."

"You know what's not fair? _Stealing Rey Mysterio_."

"Rey Mysterio was mine!"

"Liar. Mom gave him to me."

"No she didn't! Dad gave him to me."

"Whatever. It still wasn't fair. Just ask Billy."

Billy didn't look up. "Please don't ask Billy. Billy doesn't care."

"But _Billy_."

He reached out to snag the remote off the coffee table, ignoring the chorus of complaints as he turned up the volume until Spock was nearly shouting his measured orders to the bridge crew of the Enterprise.

Holiday break was going _so_ well.

Andy tried to snag the remote from him, but Billy yanked it away, slapping at his hand in annoyed protest. "Can't you two go bother Mom?" he demanded, tossing the remote to his other hand and squirming up to avoid David's reach. "She's not doing anything."

"Don't listen to him," his mother called from the kitchen. "Your mother is very busy being not involved in this."

"Give that back," David demanded, launching for him. Andy was just behind him, like always—the two fought like caged tomcats, but they always came together to form a unified front when the chips were down. Billy tried to squirm away, but they had him about the waist and legs, and he went down hard, crashing to the ground with a muffled cry.

Andy scrambled up and planted his ass on Billy's face. David sat on his legs and wrenched the remote from his hand. Billy tried kicking and biting, but his younger brothers were already stronger than he was—and wasn't _that_ a mortifying thought—and he couldn't seem to find any purchase.

He contented himself with pinching a tanned thigh and rolling away when they let him up, panting and flushed and pissed off. "Jerks," Billy muttered, wiping at his face, but Andy just smiled beatifically and David changed the channel, flipping through them in quick succession without bothering to turn the volume down. Sports, Sports, MTV, Weather, Top Models, Rudolph.

"Whatever," Billy said, turning away and stalking out of the room. He usually got along with his brothers more or less okay, but they'd been getting under his skin more than usual the last few days. _Familiarity breeds murderous rage_, he thought, passing by his mother on the way to his room. At least his parents had _finally_ agreed to allow him to install a lock on his door; he had every intention of crawling into his bed and blocking the world out.

Billy shut his bedroom door with a snap and then leaned against it, vindictively twisting the lock. His room was dim but not particularly dark—light seeped in through his curtains. A stray beam of headlights streaked across the wall, illuminating a jumbled line of posters: Spider-Man, the Fantastic Four, Thor, Captain America, Iron Man…

The pictures hadn't changed since he was a kid; _he_ hadn't changed.

God, he was such a loser.

Billy pushed himself away from the door, fighting back the wave of self-pity that had been dogging him for days. He wasn't a loser—and, hey, so what if he was? Not everyone had to be big and handsome and casually cool.

Just guys like Johnny Storm. Or Iron Man. Or, oh, any of his heroes.

Just guys like Teddy.

"No," he said firmly, throwing himself down onto his bed and squeezing his eyes shut. He wasn't going to think about Teddy or Greg the Asshole. "This pity-party is over." Billy dragged the covers up over his head, trying to block out the passing headlights and the grave, heroic faces of the Avengers.

He wasn't going to think about it. He was going to go to sleep.

**

**Avngerfan2119:** SOS. Mom driving me slowly around the bend. Please advise.  
**CaptnAmazing:** That sucks. Mine's too busy mooning over online vids of McDreamy. Or is it McSteamy? One of them! McAssholes.  
**Avngerfan2119:** Argh. The boys are driving me nuts, too. I'm about to pelt them with dreidels. Save me from this fate worse than death.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Poor Billy. The Strand, then Juniors?  
**Avngerfan2119:** I could go for some cheesecake. Brooklyn or Times Square?  
**CaptnAmazing:** Infidel. Brooklyn.  
**Avngerfan2119:** Meet you tomorrow, then.

**

"And then, wham! Iron Man punched him in the stomach and he went flying across the street," Billy said, one arm flinging out in demonstration. "Brick and mortar rained down everywhere, surrounding his head as he twitched and tried to get up. Iron Man just walked up to him, though, cool as you please, and stood over his body in the rubble. Like this."

Billy hopped up and rested one foot against the bottom rung of his chair, Captain Morgan style. He tried to make his face as blankly menacing as he could, though he probably just looked stupid if Jamie's snorted laughter was anything to go by. Billy didn't care; he was too swept up in the memory.

"Like this. And Ultron just gave up—_right there_! Bitch-slapped by Iron Man."

"You totally want to have Iron Man's little mechanical butt babies, don't you?" Jamie snickered, ducking and protesting when Billy threw french fries at his head before finally trying to slide beneath the booth. "Hey! Hey! Fine, uncle, you win!"

Billy dipped one last fry in gravy and flung it at him before slipping back into his chair. "Darn right I win. And no, for your information. I don't want—_you know_." He felt stupid for not even being able to say it, but whatever, who cared? It wasn't as if it were the truth. "Iron Man's a hero."

"And completely not your type," Jamie added.

"And completely not my type."

"Not nearly blonde and swaggery enough."

Billy narrowed his eyes, but Jamie just laughed and held up his hands in surrender. Billy's old crush on the Human Torch would never stop haunting him, it seemed, no matter how much his taste had matured over the years. Sure, Billy amended, Johnny Storm was hot—pun not intended—but he practically had "JERK" written all over him.

A _heroic_ jerk—but still. And Billy was done forming crushes on assholes.

He jabbed another french fry into gravy. "Whatever. Like you're one to talk about blondes," Billy said sullenly, before adding, "And speaking of blondes—have you heard from Samantha at all this break?"

Jamie determinedly glared at a spot over Billy's shoulder, mouth pulled into a scowl until suddenly the expression changed to one of surprise, and then sly delight. Billy went very still; when Jamie looked like that, nothing good ever came of it.

"Forget about Sam and Johnny Storm," Jamie said, giving a little hoot of delight. "There's a hot blonde heading this way now—and I think he's coming to talk to _you_!"

Billy froze, shoulders going stiff and tight. The hairs along his arms and the back of his neck seemed to all stand up at once, bristling as if a spark of electricity had jumped through his body. He got a sudden image of the boy from the bookstore—Teddy—but he quickly banished the thought. There was no way. _No. Way._

Jamie was probably wrong. Jamie was—

Jamie was crawling out of the booth and _abandoning him._

"Hey!" Billy squawked, grabbing at Jamie's sleeve as he darted past him, but then he caught sight of Teddy, ten paces away, and, _yes_, heading straight for him. The sparks became an electrical current as excitement and anxiety and a little bit of annoyance jolted through him, each emotion clambering for dominance. Jamie just grinned and hurried away, murmuring something lame about using the can.

Billy looked down at the diner floor and drew a deep breath—then another when a pair of battered sneakers came into view.

He looked up slowly to meet Teddy's eyes, and he wasn't sure whether it was his imagination, but for a moment Teddy seemed to look just as anxious as he felt. But then it melted away into one of those casual smiles, as if they were old acquaintances meeting up again after a long absence.

"Hey," Teddy said, jerking his chin toward the chair next to Billy's. "This seat taken?"

He was tempted to say yes; maybe add something snarky about—about—well, he wasn't sure, but something snarky about something. Teddy had been pretty nice at the bookstore, but he'd blown him off quicker than you could say, "Kick the nerd," when his friend caught them talking.

Greg, the Impossibly Hot Asshole.

Billy opened his mouth, then shut it again when he met Teddy's eyes. They were wide and blue and a little uncertain. The cutting words died on his lips.

"No, it's fine," Billy muttered, looking down again.

Teddy slid into place beside him and sprawled back, hands folded over his stomach. He moved so gracefully that Billy felt an odd rush of jealousy and desire. Teddy would never feel ugly and out of place in a locker room; he would never be the last one standing as everyone picked teams. He probably had no idea what it felt like to be small and insignificant and somewhere so far from normal that everyone immediately went from schoolmate to potential threat.

He was one of _them_—and yet he was watching Billy with a quiet, earnest focus that made his stomach do an uncomfortable somersault.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Teddy said, voice low. He reached up to brush back the longer strands of blonde hair that had fallen into his eyes. Dressed in jeans and a black woolen coat, he looked like he'd stepped out of some kind of men's catalogue: _GQ_ or _Vogue_. It just wasn't _fair_ that he looked so good. "Do you live around here?"

Billy began tearing his napkin into neat strips. "No, I live in the city. Um, around 61st and Lexington?"

"Oh, yeah? Must be nice. It takes me an hour to get into the city. Sunset Park," he added, jerking a shoulder. "Though Mom keeps threatening to move us to Park Slope."

"You don't like it around Park Slope?"

Teddy grinned ruefully. "What's not to like? The adorable-small-dog-to-human ratio alone is a ringing endorsement."

Billy laughed despite himself, shoulders relaxing. Teddy was just so _likeable_; it was maddening. "Yes, but the true test of the neighborhood is how many of them are wearing sweaters."

"The dogs dress better than I do, Billy. I can't move there and still hold my head up high! Besides, I've got a better chance of a Spider-Man sighting where I am, and I'd trade a shorter commute for the regular chance to geek out anytime."

Billy blinked in disbelief. There was no way. "Big fan?" he asked as casually as he could.

Teddy ducked his head as if embarrassed. "Uh, yeah. I mean, well, who isn't, but."

"Who is your favorite female Avenger?" Billy asked in a rush.

"She-Hulk. Yours?"

"Scarlet Witch. Male?"

"Cap, of course. You?"

"Cap. Best villain?"

Teddy grinned brilliantly. "Green Goblin—but only because Kang the Conqueror has such a lame costume."

Billy balled up his napkin and threw it at Teddy's head. "I'd like to see you do better," he scoffed. "Not that I'm defending him! Since he's, you know, evil."

"Evil and tacky. If I were a supervillain, I'd have some kind of great dark armor. And a big sword or something."

Billy rolled his eyes. "All right, Xena."

"Hey!" Teddy protested, lightly shoving his shoulder, and Billy felt a sudden rush of fierce joy at the casual, friendly gesture. He wanted so badly to remain mad at Teddy, to _hate_ him, but it didn't feel possible. Not now, when he was laughing and talking about superheroes with him—not when he was sprawled back in his rickety old chair, looking so at home here.

"We should hang out sometime," Billy said impulsively, eyes scanning Teddy's face. "You know, if you want to."

Teddy looked over at him, surprised, and Billy fought the urge to sink under the table and die, but then Teddy's smile broadened and he nodded. "Yeah," Teddy said with real warmth. "Yeah, that sounds good. Here, lemme get you my number."

He lifted his hips, digging into his pocket for a pen while Billy swallowed back a mad grin. He could hardly believe this was happening.

Billy leaned forward a little, watching as Teddy found a felt-tipped pen and began searching for a slip of paper. The napkins were all balled up and messy; the placemats were splattered with gravy. "Erm," Billy said, half afraid Teddy would change his mind.

"Here," Teddy finally said, turning toward him. He caught Billy's hand between his own and turned it over, palm-up, his fingers calloused and warm against Billy's smooth skin. He smelled like…like something amazing.

_Oh, oh, wow_, Billy thought dazedly, squeezing his knees together against the liquid rush of heat low in his belly; the glide of the pen against his palm was the most arousing thing he'd ever felt. The sight of Teddy's golden hair falling into his face made him want to do something incredibly stupid, like lean forward and kiss him, or throw his arms around his neck, or… Or something. Anything.

"There," Teddy said, sitting back again. He didn't seem to notice the lightning storm raging inside of Billy, focused as he was on recapping his pen and sliding it back into his pocket. "Give me a call if you ever want to hang out or something. I mean, Billy and Teddy—we have to hang out just for that."

Billy nodded, breathless. "Yeah," he said, hoping his voice didn't sound as strained as he felt. He shifted in his seat, squirming. "It's fate or—uh—something."

Teddy grinned up at him, but then glanced over his shoulder to the counter, where the pastry clerk was leaning over the scarred wood and looking around, red-and-orange box in his hands. "I have to go," Teddy said, standing. "I just dropped in to pick up a cheesecake for my mom. It's her birthday," he added.

"Oh? Happy birthday. To her, I mean."

"Thanks." He took a step away before turning back again, meeting Billy's eyes earnestly. "I'm glad I ran into you," he said. "What happened before was—well... Anyway. I'll see you around."

"Yeah," Billy said, though Teddy was already trotting over to the pastry counter. "I'll see you," he murmured as he curled his fingers into a fist, watching as Teddy handed over a few bills and laughed at something the older man said. Billy looked down quickly when Teddy glanced over, then up again in time to give him a shy wave. Teddy waved back, boxed cheesecake in hand, before slipping out into the flurries of snow outside.

The store seemed suddenly very still, as if he'd taken all the color with him.

Stunned and pleased with himself, Billy dropped his gaze to his hands as he blew out a breath. He could hardly believe what had happened—but there it was, written across his palm in neat, boxy script.

212-555-3129.

He didn't look up when Jamie threw himself into the seat next to him, or even when Jamie punched him on the shoulder to get his attention. "Tell me everything!" Jamie demanded, a shrill note of excitement in his voice. Then, "Dude, is that his _phone number_?" as if Billy had done something incredible.

Maybe he had; he certainly _felt_ as if he could take on the world. Teddy was handsome and popular and cool, and he wanted Billy to call him.

He wanted to _hang out_ sometime.

Billy closed his hand into a tight fist, heart pounding loud enough to drown out the whole world.

**

**CaptnAmazing:** Sooo?  
**Avngerfan2119:** What?  
**CaptnAmazing:** You know very well what! Have you sealed the deal yet?  
**Avngerfan2119:** Oh my God, I hate you.

**

212-555-31—

"Crap," Billy sighed, hanging up. He flopped back onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling with blind eyes. Ten simple numbers, one conversation—how hard could it be?

Impossible, if the last few days were anything to go by.

He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing a palm over his brow, then sat up again. "Okay," Billy said, setting his jaw. "Okay." He flipped open his phone and began to dial slowly. 212-555-312—

"Crap!" He snapped the phone closed again and shoved it under his pillow, cheeks flushing hot. What was he going to say to Teddy, anyway? _Hi, hello, just thinking about you obsessively; want to come hang out so I can stare at you some more_?

"Oh—and PS, I'm totally mentally unhinged."

He flopped back, insides twisting with conflicting desires. The numbers were still visible on his palm, black ink just now beginning to spread out in little spider veins. Teddy had written them there; he'd grasped Billy's wrist in warm, calloused hands and brushed the pen over his skin.

Billy turned onto his side, sliding one hand under his pillow to wrap his fingers around the phone. All he had to do was bring himself to dial: ten numbers—ten simple numbers, a few seconds, and he'd hear Teddy's voice; he'd be talking to Teddy, and maybe he _wouldn't_ crash and burn. Maybe he'd think of something clever to say; maybe he'd make Teddy laugh, like he had at the diner.

Teddy had a really great laugh.

"Easy," Billy said, knees curling up against the wild churning in his stomach. "You can do this. You can do this. You can do this. You can—"

He yelped when the phone buzzed in his hand, rings muffled by the pillow. Billy glanced toward the door guiltily—his mother was working on case notes in her office across the hall—and tugged the phone out to glance at the faceplate: _Jamie_. Billy sighed and flipped it open, leaning back against his pillows and staring across the dark room to his life-size poster of Antman. "Yeah?"

"So? Have you called him yet?"

"No, seriously, I hate you."

"Aw, come on. Seize the day, Billy! Carpe Hottie!"

**

**212-555-3129: ** Hello?  
**212-555-8743: ** *click*

**

**212-555-3129: ** Hello?  
**212-555-8743: ** ...  
**212-555-3129: ** Hello? Is anyone there?  
**212-555-8743: ** ... *click*

**

**212-555-3129: ** This is Teddy.  
**212-555-8743: ** *click*

**

"Who do you keep calling?"

Billy looked up guiltily. Andy was standing in the doorway, toothbrush in one hand and lips flecked with white foam. His head was cocked to one side and his eyes were dancing merrily, as if he had a pretty good idea already.

Or, at least, he had a pretty good idea what kind call it was.

"No one," Billy said, fighting the impulse to hide his cell phone. What was it about little brothers and their noses for secrets, anyway? "Go away."

"If it's no one, why do you keep calling them?"

"Oh my God, if you don't go away, I swear I'll brain you," Billy growled, jumping to his feet and dropping the phone onto the bed as casually as he could manage. He doubted he was fooling anyone, but he had to try or die of embarrassment. He glowered at his brother as he stalked to the door, but Andy simply grinned through the mass of toothpaste now dribbling down his chin and let himself be pushed out of the doorway.

"Billy's in looooove," he crooned gleefully. Billy slammed the door in his face and turned the lock with a loud, angry click. He leaned against it, cheeks burning, but even through the thick oak he could still hear young voices drifting back to him.

"What's going on?"

"Billy's in looooove, David."

"Ooh, yuck, with who?"

"Dunno. Don't care! Billy's got a girlfriend! Billy's got a girlfriend!"

"...Um, okay, but I thought Billy was... I thought he didn't like... Um, I thought that he..."

Billy pushed himself away from the door and stumbled back to his bed, burying his burning face against the pillows. He didn't want to hear any more.

Only six more days, and winter break would be over.

**

**CaptnAmazing:** Oh crap, Billy, Spider-Man is outside Lotus signing autographs.  
**Avngerfan2119:** Wait, what, seriously?  
**CaptnAmazing:** Yes, and Mom won't let me go. She said it was family time. I can't believe this. I hate family time! A pox on my family.  
**Avngerfan2119:** Mine will. Fill you in later.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Haaaaate you.

**

Billy shoved his way off the train as politely as possible, tossing apologies over his shoulder as he stumbled onto the dirty station platform. The long ends of his winter coat swung behind him and his sneakers pounded against the concrete in a frantic rhythm as he wove his way through jaded locals and curious tourists.

"Excuse me, sorry," he said, quickly bypassing a harried-looking woman overburdened with shopping bags to race up the two flights of steps, until finally he broke to the surface and trotted down the street, breathing heavy white clouds into the cold air.

Lotus was a popular club, but he probably would have been able to spot it even if it had been a hole-in-the-wall bodega. Throngs of people milled about the sidewalk and spilled into the street, cameras flashing madly. The frenzy of bulbs was like a fireworks show, Billy thought dazedly, coming to the edge of the crowd. He ducked low, for once grateful he was so small, and began to weave his way through the throng.

"Sorry," he murmured, slipping between a pair of gawking twenty-somethings. "Excuse me. Sorry. Sorry!"

An oddly familiar voice was raised over the general hubbub, saying things like, "Hey, relax, Spidey and I aren't going anywhere," and "Well, hello there. Did you want to meet Spider-Man? Here, come stand by me and I'll be sure to introduce you."

_He sounds like a carnival hawker_, Billy thought, outraged. As if Spider-Man were some kind of sideshow freak. A growing part of him wondered if this was even really Spider-Man. There had been fakes before—people who cobbled together convincing enough costumes and paraded around as if they were the real deal.

But then he broke through to the front of the crowd and got his first real look at the hero, and all doubt fled. No, this was Spider-Man. His build was exact, his costume was perfect—even the way he held himself was true to everything Billy knew from years of obsessive study. Only an equally obsessive mimic could even hope to come so close, and the likelihood of that was small enough for him to dismiss it in a fit of fanboyish glee.

Oh. _Oh_. It was Spider-Man!

Billy grinned, bouncing up onto the balls of his feet in excitement. He couldn't believe his luck; he'd never managed to get within a few blocks of his hero—never mind this close, so near he could track each minute movement, could hear the familiar voice even above the crowd. Spider-Man was so close Billy could lunge forward and touch him if he wanted.

Not that he'd dare. But he could, and that was enough to make him dizzy with happiness.

He fumbled for his phone and flipped it open, determinedly weathering the jostling of the crowd. He wanted to call Jamie desperately. He wanted to call _Teddy_, and the idea of doing just that made him flush and grin in shy exultation. Teddy probably wouldn't mind; he'd probably be just as excited as Billy to be here, and it would be the perfect excuse he'd been waiting for.

But there was no way Teddy would be able to make it from Brooklyn in time, and it seemed cruel to call him over for nothing.

Mind made up, Billy pressed a few quick buttons and aimed his phone, snapping a series of pictures. He'd text them to Jamie later, and maybe when he and Teddy hung out some time, he could casually flip his phone open and show him.

He shifted his phone to get a better angle, no longer paying attention to the crowd even as it grew progressively wilder; when someone in the far back pushed forward, the entire front row staggered. A big man in cowboy boots stepped on Billy's foot, and he was nearly knocked into a pretty redheaded girl. She grabbed his shoulder as a tall boy behind her shoved closer. Billy pushed his phone into his pocket and tried to haul her up, suddenly alarmed.

The crowd was getting dangerous.

"Hey, whoa, wait a minute," Spider-Man said, hands lifted. It didn't do any good. The crowd was pushing forward with growing strength, narrowing the circle that surrounded the superhero. Billy looked around wildly, no longer certain he wanted to be in the center of the melee. He spotted an opening and ducked toward it, but another familiar voice brought him up short.

"Ow, wait, let go of me. _Ow_!"

He turned, heart hammering, and anxiously scanned the buffeting mass of people. The blonde hair caught his eye, bright and shining and pulled back into a neat ponytail. Samantha tried to push her way free, one arm lifted, but she was trapped between two lanky teens and an excited-looking middle-aged man.

"Sam!" Billy called, cupping his hands around his mouth. She turned her head toward him, blue eyes wide, and he cursed and darted into the thick of things. Spider-Man was calling desperately for order and his carnival hawker was saying things like, "Hey, chill out guys! There's plenty to go around!"

Billy darted under a wildly swinging elbow and barely squeezed between two arguing men. Someone in heavy boots stepped on his foot and Billy hissed in pain, lurching into the soft gut of a glowering man. "Sorry," he said, ducking under a heavy arm and squirming past a cursing woman. He could spot Sam's bright blue coat as she lifted her arm above the insane press, but the rest of her was lost. "Hey!" Billy yelled, trying to put as much authority into his voice as he could muster. He grabbed a boy's shoulder and pushed him aside, sidestepping the angry returned shove and grabbing a flailing red mitten.

"Sam! It's Billy," he yelled, squeezing her fingers. She squeezed back tightly and he took that as recognition—it would do for now, at least. "Come on!"

He cast around him before tugging her past the clump of now seriously-shoving men and through a small gap that had opened up. The crowd kept trying to swallow her up again, as if it could sense weakness, but Billy held on with grim determination, keeping her slight body next to his.

Jamie would kill him if he let anything happen to Sam.

The carnival hawker was yelling for people to make way, and Billy heard the all-too-familiar sound of fists meeting soft flesh. He winced and wrapped an arm around Sam's waist, glancing around for a weakness in the crowd. They were nearing the edge of it, they had to be, yet it seemed as if there was no end of people pushing and shoving and falling underfoot.

It was mayhem.

"Billy," Sam said, then, "Get your gosh-darned hands off me!"

Billy looked over, startled, and quaked inside at the sight of the big-shouldered man crowding close. He'd taken advantage of the cramped quarters, it seemed, to slip a thick hand into Sam's bright blue coat, and he was grinning despite—or maybe cause of—the girl's flushed-faced protests.

"Hey," Billy said weakly, then louder, "Hey!"

The man looked up, smirking, and allowed himself to be buffeted away by the swarm before Billy could think of what to do. The crowd seemed to part a little, pulling back, and suddenly the hawker was at Sam's elbow. He looked around before zeroing in on her pretty, flushed face, distracted from his feeble attempt to control the crowd. "Are you okay?" the boy asked, and Billy's eyes darted to his face for the first time as he recognized the voice.

"Greg the Asshole!" he blurted before he could stop himself.

Greg looked just as surprised as Billy felt. "Oh, it's you," he said, glancing almost guiltily over his shoulder toward Spider-Man. Spider-Man's back was to them as he tried to calm the crowd, gentle hands helping the young and elderly out of the crush. Greg turned his attention back to Billy, expression hardening. "What the fuck are you doing here, Dr. Ruth?"

Billy took an instinctive step back, but the crowd was packed too tightly. There was no escaping that way. "I—I just came to see Spider-Man," he said.

"Billy," Sam said, blue eyes mistrustful as she watched Greg.

_Good instincts_, Billy thought grimly, shoulders tightening when Greg reached out to put a hand on her arm. "Come on, sweetheart," Greg said, offering Sam a dazzling grin. It was strange how he could turn from menacing to charming in a flash—as fast as quicksilver. Billy could almost see how a girl would be drawn in by that lopsided smile and handsome face, and he hunched his shoulders as if preparing for a blow.

But Sam only narrowed her eyes and shook off Greg's hand. "I'm not your sweetheart," she bit out, voice steely.

Billy wanted to cheer; he wanted to laugh at Greg's surprised face. But then Greg began to pull away with a disgusted look, hands lifted. "Fine, have it your own way," he said, beginning to turn.

"What's going on here?"

Billy looked over, surprised, then nearly jolted back when he saw Spider-Man—_Spider-Man_, just a few feet from him!—looking between them anxiously. It seemed as if Spider-Man's eyes lingered on him a beat too long, but that could have been the thrill of the moment.

The crowd had fallen back some more to give them room, forming a ring around them. _Oh my God, I'm standing next to Spider-Man_, Billy thought dizzily, and he bit his lip hard when his hero turned to look at him again.

"We were just leaving," Sam said, sounding a bit breathless but firm. She squeezed Billy's hand and he squeezed back reflexively, nodding. "If you wouldn't mind helping us fight our way through?"

"Of course," Spider-Man said quickly. His gaze moved between Sam's face and Billy's, and he sounded almost eager to help. Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man indeed. "I can lift you out easily."

Greg stepped in smoothly. "Two may be a bit of a struggle, Spider-Man," he said, "what with your webbing acting up and all. Why don't I take Dr. Ruth here, and you can heroically sweep the girl to safety?"

Billy's heart froze in his chest, and Sam narrowed her eyes. Even Spider-Man seemed wary. "I'm not sure," he began.

"Oh, well, in that case—you take the boy and I'll take the girl."

There was no way he was letting Sam be alone with Greg the Asshole. "No, it's fine," Billy said, letting go of Sam's hand. "You go ahead, ah, sir. I'll just..." He trailed off, gesturing.

"Billy," Sam protested, but Greg was all smiles and charm again. "No, hey, it's cool," he said. "We'll be fine. Just get the girl out of here, then beat a hasty exit, Spider-Man. It looks like you're more famous than either of us gave you credit for."

It was weird—wrong—seeing Greg the Asshole give casual orders to Spider-Man like that. It was even worse to watch him take them.

"You're right," Spider-Man said, not meeting Greg's eyes. He didn't look at Billy, either, focusing instead on the excited crowd circling around them like the arms of a hurricane. Then he offered a hand to Sam. "Come on," he said, getting a good grip before leading her away, sans webbing.

Billy frowned, watching them go. The crowd seemed to fold in on itself in his wake, moving closer to Billy and Greg, jostling for position. _We're no longer the eye_, Billy thought absently, steeling himself against the rough surge of people. He supposed it wouldn't have lasted anyway.

He moved as if to slip through the crowd, but Greg grabbed his arm and dragged him back. "Hey," Billy protested, trying to squirm away. He finally _did_ manage to wrench his arm free with a sudden surge of fright, meeting Greg's dark eyes as steadily as he could. "Keep your hands off me," Billy said, fumbling for bravado. "Or I'll—I'll—"

"Yeah? Or you'll what?" Greg laughed—an ugly, mean laugh. The sound of it sent chills down Billy's spine. "Run find your little geek friend?"

Billy flinched as Greg's big fist shot out, grabbing hold of his shirt. "Coming through," Greg said, pushing through the crowd roughly as he dragged Billy behind him. He knocked people over heedlessly—an elderly woman with a kind face, a young man craning his neck to see the action, a boy and his mother standing toward the rear—and Billy winced as each of them was shoved aside. He twisted and squirmed to avoid them himself, to get free, but just as he reached up to grab at Greg's wrist and opened his mouth to call for help, he was forcefully shoved away.

Billy staggered down the slick sidewalk before losing his balance and stumbling to his knees. He caught himself with his palms, crying out in surprise at the sting, and looked up the meet Greg's eyes in silent shock.

The other boy stood over him, tall and handsome and terrible. His big fists were balled up and he looked unaccountably furious. Billy didn't understand, but he braced himself, uncertain whether to protect his head or his stomach—not sure what was coming next.

Greg leaned in, vibrating with rage. "Stay away from me," he hissed, low and angry, "and don't ask any questions, if you know what's good for you."

Ask any—"What?" Billy said, dizzy. The crowd was slowly beginning to break up since Spider-Man was gone, and he couldn't help but glance over his shoulder to see if he could spot his hero webbing away. No luck. "I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

Then, before he even knew what he was going to say, "What are you doing with Spider-Man?"

Billy could have swallowed his tongue; he almost _wanted to_ at the sight of Greg's suddenly flushed face and balled fists. Billy ducked, too slow, as Greg grabbed him by the front of his shirt and shook him hard. His handsome face was pressed close, breath making thick puffs of condensed air around them.

"Shut. The fuck. Up," he hissed. "And stay the fuck away from me and mine. I don't need a little fag sticking his Goddamned nose in my business." Billy hunched his shoulders, not even trying to fight back. It only made it worse when he fought back. "You got that?"

He didn't answer. His palms stung and Greg's grip on his collar was so tight he could barely breathe.

Greg growled in response to his silence and shook him again until stars began to explode across his field of vision. _But I haven't done anything_, Billy wanted to protest. Or maybe, _What are you up to that you're so desperate to keep me away?_

Yet he didn't say either of those things; he wasn't sure he could speak now. The stars were fading into black holes that ate away at his vision like corrupted film.

Then another hand was on him and a furious voice was shouting, "You let go of him right the heck now or I swear I'll punch you in the nutsack so hard you'll be shitting sperm for the rest of your gosh-darn life!"

Greg's grip loosened abruptly and Billy fell back against the concrete, half supported by Sam. Her blonde hair was mostly falling out of its ponytail, cascading around him, and her pretty, freckled face was set in a mask of grim hatred as she glared up at Greg. She'd never looked so beautiful.

"Easy there, sweetheart," Greg said, straightening. A few lingering members of the crowd were looking their way, curious. "There's no call for any of this. Dr. Ruth and I were just having a little chat, that's all."

"For the last time, I'm not your sweetheart, and Billy's not your bitch, so just clear on out of here before I start screaming loud enough to drag the rest of the Avengers in on your sorry butt."

That, oddly enough, seemed to bring him up short. Greg's jaw tightened and he almost looked afraid for a moment. Sam was bluffing—of course she was—but even just the threat of the Avengers was enough to make Greg step away quickly. "Fine, whatever, you cunt," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I'm through here anyway."

He turned on his heel and quickly strode down the clearing sidewalk in the direction Spider-Man had taken.

Billy drew in a shaky breath, rising to his knees. Sam was flushed with color and breathing hard, but there was a glint of victory in her eyes that he admired; he should have stood up to Greg. He felt it in his bones. But he hadn't had the guts—unlike Samantha.

"Thanks," Billy said quietly as he stood. He brushed himself off as she straightened, torn between shame, embarrassment, and an odd glow of pride.

"Thank _you_," she countered, pushing her hair back. "I thought I was going to get trampled in there."

"Yeah, well." He tried to smile. "We short people should stick together."

Sam laughed. "Definitely. Then at least we can stand on each other's shoulders. Are you going to be okay getting home? Do you need help?"

"Nah," Billy said quickly, touching his throat. It hurt, but it wasn't too bad. Kesler had done worse in the past. "I'm good. I'd better get back, though, so I can IM Jamie all about Spider-Man. He'll have fits of jealousy." In more ways than one.

She smiled warmly. "Okay, if you're sure. I'll see you around, Billy. Happy holidays!" She stepped back, heading toward the street, then paused. "Oh! And tell Jamie hello for me, will you?" Sam added before stepping off the curb and hurrying away.

Billy watched her go, pleased for his friend and, for an instant, forgetting Greg the Asshole. Then he swallowed, wincing in pain, and everything came crashing down again: Greg acting like some kind of carnival hawker for Spider-Man; Greg telling Spider-Man what to do; Greg's irrational anger, and his fear of the other Avengers.

_Something_, Billy thought grimly, _is most definitely afoot_.

Rubbing his neck gingerly, he dug into his pocket for his phone. He had to talk to Jamie about this.

 

**

**212-555-8743: ** tell your parents they can spare you. im coming over.  
**212-555-9078:** did you see him? did you get pictures? TELL ALL.  
**212-555-8743: ** oh i will. ten minutes.

**

"That's so weird," Jamie said again. He'd sat Billy down and forced him to tell the story straight through. And then again. And then one more time, just to be sure he got it all. Even still, he didn't seem to be able to absorb what had happened. "And Spider-Man was just letting Greg the Asshole boss him around?"

Billy shrugged helplessly. "Yeah. I mean, it sure seemed that way to me. Though I can't figure out why he'd let him. Greg is… Greg is just…"

"An asshole. Thus the name." Jamie made a face, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "It just doesn't make any sense."

"No," Billy agreed. "It doesn't make any sense at all. And why would he act so..._guilty_ over it? Or, like, afraid of the Avengers?"

"Well," Jamie pointed out for what had to be the sixth time, "that part does make sense. Who in their right mind wouldn't be afraid of the Avengers? Or Sam." He grinned. "Wow. I mean, I knew she had it in her—she's amazing—but still, wow."

Billy made a face, but he didn't argue. Jamie was probably right about the Avengers. "It just seemed so wrong," he said wistfully. "The crowd was going crazy, and Spider-Man was helping a bit, but…not as much as he could have. _Should_ have. Where was his spidey sense?"

"Maybe he was having an off day." Billy made another dubious face, but Jamie just shrugged it off this time. "I don't know, Billy. I agree, it sucks, and Spider-Man is way less cool now than he used to be, but… I don't think that there's anything nefarious going on between Greg the Asshole and Spider-Man. Greg is just as asshole."

"A giant asshole. A bigoted asshole."

"There are too many of those in the world," Jamie said. "But there are good people too, yeah? There's me, for instance. I'm awesome."

"Yeah. You're a real charmer."

"And you. You're all right, I guess. There's Sam. And then," Jamie added, eyes dancing, "there's Teddy."

Billy flushed and looked down at his hands. Jamie hooted a laugh and punched his shoulder happily. "Man, you really have the hots for him, don't you?" he teased. "Poor Johnny Storm—he's been replaced by some hottie in a striped sweater."

"Oh, shut up," Billy protested, but he couldn't swallow the pleased grin creeping across his face. "He just gave me his phone number. It doesn't mean anything."

But Jamie wouldn't be put off so easily. "This is the first phone number we've managed to score in our entire pathetic lives. I don't care how much you try to pretend your little heart doesn't go pitter-pat when you think about him—I'm going to be excited about it!"

He paused then, looking thoughtful. "Though," Jamie said slowly, "I do have to meet him. I mean, what if I don't approve of your potential boyfriend? I'm going to have to get vetting rights. It's only fair, after putting up with you for so long."

"Put up with me?" Billy sputtered. "After listening to you moan about Samantha since we were all in _grade school_ together, I…and I'm not even mooning over…and…"

He flipped Jamie off as his best friend laughed, merciless in his teasing.

"Oh, God, you really do have a thing for him, don't you?" Jamie said, visibly delighted. "You're so turned around you can't even speak! Have you called him yet?"

Billy grumbled under his breath, looking down at his hands.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak fluent sulk-ese. What was that?"

"I said no."

Jamie blinked at him, then reached back and grabbed one of the pillows off his bed, thwacking Billy across the head with it. "Ow, hey!" Billy protested, trying to snatch the pillow away. "What was that for?"

"For supreme idiocy!" Jamie said, looking stern. "Even I know that when a girl—or a guy, as the case may be—gives you their number, you call."

"I'm going to!" Billy protested, finally wresting the pillow away. He folded his arms around it and held on tight to keep Jamie from stealing it back again. "I will," he added at Jamie's dubious look. "I'm just…building up mystique."

Jamie sniffed. "Or your pathetic courage."

"Or that," Billy agreed. His stomach twisted as he thought about calling Teddy. But Jamie was right about a lot of things: about Greg the Asshole, about Teddy, about Billy. He should call. He _would_ call.

As soon as he found the nerve.

**

**212-555-9078:** No, seriously, you should stop being a baby and call him. It's New Year's Eve! If you regret it in the morning, you can blame it on too much sparkling grape juice.  
**212-555-8743: ** You're the worst best friend ever. Stop calling me!

**

**212-555-9078:** But really, if you just called him—  
**212-555-8743: ** Oh my God, let it go!

**

**212-555-9078:** But who better to ring in the New Year with, huh? Am I right?  
**212-555-8743: ** ...  
**212-555-9078:** On that note, my pillow misses you.

**

When Jamie called to harass him for the sixth time that night, Billy had had enough. "Oh my God, if you don't stop calling me, I swear I will _beat you to death_ with your plaster bust of She-Hulk!"

There was a long, awkward silence, then the voice on the phone—the voice which was most definitely _not_ Jamie's—said, "Well, I wasn't expecting _that_."

Billy froze. His brain felt like a hamster on a wheel, turning over and over with dizzying rapidity. His heart was thrumming in his chest and he thought, dimly, that he might as well die now. "Oh. _Oh, crap_," he said. "Teddy. I thought—I was—I—how did you get my number?"

"Well, I kept getting hang-ups from a mysterious 212-555-8743, so I figured I'd take the chance that it was you and not some kind of creepy, mouth-breathing phone stalker."

"Oh." _Oh, crap_. He hadn't even thought of it like that. He hadn't even thought, period. "I'm. I. _Oh_."

Why couldn't he _speak_?

"But it all worked out. Unless you plan on _being_ a creepy, mouth-breathing phone stalker, in which case I feel compelled to warn you that I not only saw _Scream_ six times, I also know _When a Stranger Calls_ by heart. So I am wise to your ways."

"Um."

"Right. Sorry. Uh, did I call you at a bad time? I could hang up and pretend I was drunk or something tomorrow morning."

That, at least, spurred his brain into some kind of response. "Too much sparkling grape juice," Billy said, leaning back against his wall and pressing a hand over his heart; he could feel it racing, beats thudding quick and sharp against his fingertips.

Teddy laughed. "Right. That stuff kicks my _butt_."

Billy could hear the blare of horns and the dim thrum of bass-heavy music through the phone. "Where are you?"

"I'm in the city. Some stupid club that my friends dragged me to for New Years, but I've been ditched. I thought maybe I'd give you a call to see if you wanted to, you know, hang out." He paused. "Uh, and I realize that sounded bad—that I was ditched, _then_ called you, but in my defense... I don't have a defense, actually. But I have been hoping you'd call."

Oh. Oh, God. He'd been _hoping_... "No, great, fine, it's fine," Billy said quickly, breathless. "I'm, yeah, I'm free."

"Awesome! I was heading toward Union Square, if you want to meet there. Or I can come uptown to around your place."

"No, Union Square sounds good. I'll be there soon. Fifteen minutes!"

"I'll be here."

When Billy hung up, he barely knew what to do with himself. He was grinning so hard that his cheeks hurt, and the crushing embarrassment had turned into soaring elation with just a few minutes of conversation.

Teddy had called him. Teddy wanted to _hang out_.

"Oh crap," he said happily, squeezing his phone tight before launching into action. He didn't have much time to get dressed into something a little less geektastic—fifteen minutes was cutting it close enough as it was—but he threw off his clothes and tugged on clean jeans and a Threadless hoodie in record time. Billy hopped from foot to foot as he jammed on his socks and shoes, then nearly strangled himself with his scarf when he tried to throw it on over his coat without untangling it from its hook.

"Shit, shit, shit, come on," he chanted, yanking on the scarf frantically until it finally tugged free. He patted his pockets to check for his wallet, Metro card and keys before hurrying out of his room. "I'm heading out!" he called as he raced past his parents' office. Andy and David were downstairs in the den watching Anderson Cooper and Kathy Griffin.

His mom stuck her head out of the office as Billy dashed down the stairs. "Be safe and remember your curfew," she called after him. Billy could hear his father's voice drifting down, "Say hello to Jamie for us."

David was already beginning to wail about how Billy got to go out until _two am_ while they were stuck at home as Billy slammed the door shut behind him. He paused on the brick stoop, drawing in a steadying breath of cold air. It was dark, but lights were coming out of the windows of the brownstones up and down his street. A mix of light mist and snow fell around him. Someone down the block was singing as she walked her dog.

And Teddy was waiting for him at Union Square.

Grinning, Billy jumped down the steps and sprinted down the sidewalk. The sharp _thwap thwap_ of his sneakers was a counterbalance to the rapid staccato of his heartbeat. A bodega owner was leaning in the doorway of his store, smoking a cigarette, and Billy grinned at him as he raced by, buoyed by the memory of the sound of Teddy's voice, of his laughter.

The train took forever to come, and by the time Billy stepped into the R, he thought he would come right out of his skin with excitement. The train was crowded with revelers from Queens and the mood of the cramped subway car was electric. He tried not to let the nervous energy overtake him, instead closing his eyes and picturing Teddy: blonde hair falling into blue eyes; a wide, perfect smile; features that were so symmetrical, so obviously _beautiful_ that it seemed almost impossible.

His stomach twisted at the memory and he thought for an anxious moment that he was going to hurl—but then 14th Street-Union Square was announced and Billy stepped off the train.

The Square was crowded with late-night shoppers and party-goers. Billy shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around anxiously, trying to spot Teddy over the crowd. He stepped past the pagoda exit, glancing across the street toward Whole Foods before turning around and looking toward the center of the park.

Teddy was sitting on a rickety old chair, laughing as he moved a chess piece. A nut-faced old man sat across from him, bundled up to his wispy white hair with at least three separate scarves. He was gesturing broadly as Billy approached, lecturing Teddy on... something.

Oh, the rules of chess. Right.

"A game of kings!" the old man said, moving his pawn. "A game of generals!"

"I'm more of a infantry man, myself," Teddy remarked, reaching out to move one of his pieces.

The old man smacked his hand before he could close his fingers around the knight. "No! No, no, no, do you learn _nothing_?"

"Um, try the bishop," Billy said and then hunched his shoulders a little, embarrassed, when both Teddy and the man looked up at him. "Hi," he added, lifting a hand in an awkward wave.

The man glowered; Teddy grinned. "Billy, hey," he said, climbing to his feet. He reached out, and for one dizzying moment Billy thought he was going to _hug him_, but Teddy merely clasped his shoulder in a friendly way and led him to the chess table. "Come on, man, take my place. Clarence here is kicking my _ass_, and he just won't take ignorance as a defense."

"There is no excuse for stupidity," Clarence sniffed, eyeballing Billy balefully. "Are you as brainless as your pretty friend?"

"Teddy's not stupid," Billy protested, letting himself fall into the chair. Teddy crouched near him, nudging Billy's knee playfully with his elbow. "Well, you're not."

Teddy shook his head. "In the sport of kings, I'm a self-confessed dunce. Come on and kick his wizened old ass so we can grab a late dinner."

Billy flushed and nudged Teddy back before focusing on Clarence again. Clarence looked like any number of his grandfather's friends in Boca—old, crotchety, and gleeful in his bad-tempered abuses. "All right," Billy said, meeting the old man's eyes. "Let's do this."

Clarence scoffed. "You're going to lose, little boy. I'm something of a wizard at chess."

Billy grinned. "Bring it, Dumbledore."

He wasn't sure how long the match lasted—Clarence was good, but Billy had learned chess at his father's knee. Teddy remained crouched by him as the game went on, the weather occasionally improving and worsening. He left and returned once with cups of rich hot chocolate, and he never seemed particularly bored, though Billy couldn't see how he could be enjoying himself.

When Clarence finally won, it was late and snowing fitfully. "Check and mate," the old man said, looking fiercely gleeful—and a little respectful.

Billy knocked his king over with a smile. "I guess you are something of a wizard after all. Thanks for the match, sir."

But Clarence waved off his good manners as he stood, rubbing at his back fitfully. "You don't suck as bad as Blondie, I'll give you that," he said. Teddy stood from his easy crouch and began gathering up the pieces for him, sliding them into Clarence's worn case with respectful tidiness. "I come here most every day to see what's what. If you come back, I won't want to kill myself rather than play you."

Billy bit back a grin. "I'll do that. Thank you, sir."

"And you," Clarence added, glowering at Teddy. "You come and watch. Learn a thing or two from your friend. I suppose I won't want to kill myself rather than look at you for a few hours now and again."

Teddy glanced at Billy, blue eyes dancing, but he just said, "Thanks, I'll come. Until next time, Clarence."

"Goodbye, sir."

The old man just waved them off, shuffling toward the Metro station with his box of chess pieces tucked under his arm. When he was gone, Teddy turned to Billy, brow arched. "So, you're a genius too, huh?"

"Uh, no, not even," Billy countered, looking up at him with a flush. "He was probably going easy on me."

"Somehow I doubt it." Teddy checked his watch. "It's 11:14. Do you want to grab something to eat?"

"Sure," Billy said quickly. "That sounds good. Um, where?"

"There's Max Brenner's, which is always good... but it's pretty loud. How about Chat N' Chew?"

He'd never heard of it, but that didn't matter—he'd go anywhere Teddy suggested. "That sounds fine. Great! Uh, lead the way."

Teddy cocked his head toward the road and headed off, hands sliding into his pockets. Billy followed, casting occasional, surreptitious glances at him. Teddy was wearing the black wool coat again, red scarf knotted around his neck. His jeans were dark and worn in, and his shoelaces were trailing in the gathering puddles. "Your shoelaces," Billy said, pointing.

Teddy didn't even look down. "Yeah, they do that. My mom keeps threatening to buy me Velcro shoes if I can't learn to keep them tied."

"That could be cool. Maybe they could have GI Joes on them, too. You'd be, like, the envy of every fifth-grader out there."

Teddy glanced at him with a crooked grin. "Cobra Commander would be sweet," he said.

"And hey, maybe they could even _light up_ when you walked."

"All right, smartass." Teddy took a fake swipe at him, but he paused to tie his laces, forming messy loops that would surely unravel with only a little provocation. "There. Saved from Velcro light-up shoes for another day."

"You may think I'm joking, but I'm going on ebay tonight."

It was strange how _easy_ it was to talk to Teddy when he didn't let himself think. Teddy had a great sense of humor—or, at least, he seemed to have _Billy's_ sense of humor, and their conversations just _flowed_. He laughed at all the right jokes, playfully teased Billy without once taking it too far, and took Billy's own teasing in stride.

The diner was perfect for extended conversations, too, Billy mused, looking around when Teddy excused himself for the bathroom. It had a oldstyle bar-slash-country restaurant feel to it, random kitchy odds and ends stacked up in corners, amusing old advertisements pinned to the walls. It felt like the kind of place Teddy would like.

He was picking at his food again when his phone rang, and Billy glanced at the faceplate before flipping it open. "You have to stop calling me, Jamie," he began.

"No, but seriously, Billy. The hotties to the bold."

"No, but _seriously_, Jamie. I'm, uh, out with him right now."

Jamie was silent on the other end of the line. Then he began whooping loudly—very loudly—in excitement. Billy pulled the phone away from his ear, making a face, and let Jamie shout himself out for a few seconds. "Jamie. Jamie!" he finally interrupted. "Okay, _God_, shut up. Yes, I'll call you in the morning. But you can't call me any more tonight, okay?"

"Roger. Radio silence. Oh my God, one of us got a date."

"It isn't a date!" Billy hissed. He could see Teddy heading toward him. "Now go away. I'll call you later."

"Right. Good luck. Oh, hey, kiss him at midnight for m—"

Billy hung up.

"Hey," Teddy said, sliding into his chair. "They have a picture of Spider-Man eating Thanksgiving on a Roll in the hallway."

"Oh, yeah? Oh!" Billy leaned forward, pushing aside his empty plate. "Speaking of Spider-Man, I have to show you this." He flipped open his phone again and pressed a few buttons, turning the screen so Teddy could see the pictures he'd snapped.

Spider-Man, outside of Lotus. In one picture, Billy could even see half of Greg the Asshole's face.

He looked up at Teddy, grinning, expecting him to be excited and envious that Billy had gotten so close. But Teddy looked surprisingly anxious—a little green, too, as if he weren't feeling well. "What's wrong?" Billy asked, immediately concerned.

Teddy shook his head slightly, then tried to smile. It was dull and obviously forced. "What? Nothing. Everything's fine. Hey, are you done? We should get the check."

"Wh—yeah, um, I'm done." Billy shut the phone and pushed it into his pocket, confused. What had he done wrong? "Uh, are you sure everything's..."

"Yeah, just a little tired. It's pretty late." Teddy waved the waitress over and pulled out his wallet.

Billy straightened. "Oh, hey, let me get—"

But Teddy interrupted him. "No, I've got it. You can pick up the tab next time."

_Next time_. With those two words, Billy no longer cared about Teddy's odd reaction to the pictures. Teddy was assuming there'd be a next time. Teddy wanted to hang out with him again. "Yeah, of course, yes," Billy said, unable to fight back the grin. "I'll pay next time."

"Maybe you could call sometime this weekend and we could do something?"

"Yeah, that sounds really good."

They paid up and headed outside. The light flurry had let up again, but the air smelled like cold and rain. Billy tugged his scarf up to cover his nose, falling into step with Teddy as they walked away from the restaurant. They moved slowly, meandering, and the silence that fell between them was remarkably comfortable.

Which, of course, meant Billy had to break it.

"I'm, um, really glad you called," he said, studying the sidewalk intensely. "I mean, I'm sorry you were ditched, but... Yeah, anyway."

"Yeah, me too. Thanks for coming to hang out with me, Billy." They were silent for a few more steps, then Teddy lightly nudged his shoulder. Billy looked up at him, trying to keep his expression from reflecting the bubbling warmth he felt inside. "Look at the time," Teddy said, nodding toward a darkened storefront.

Billy followed his line of sight to the clock in the window. The hour hand was pointing firmly at 12. The minute hand was almost touching it.

"Oh," Billy said, flushing with heat. Midnight. Midnight on New Year's Eve, and here he was with Teddy.

He stopped, staring blankly at the clock as the second hand ticked around the wide white face. His skin prickled and his entire frame felt as if it were conducting electricity; it sparked deep inside him, making his body hum.

God, he was stupid to even hope. Of course Teddy wasn't going to _kiss_ him. Teddy was straight. And even if he weren't, Teddy was obviously out of his league. Teddy was...

Teddy was...

Teddy was pretty much everything he'd wanted his first, real crush to be. Even if Teddy never dreamed of kissing him, Billy was fiercely glad to be where he was right now.

He looked over to Teddy's face, soaking in the way moonlight reflected off the sun-warmed cheeks, the blue eyes. Teddy's expression was peaceful, almost serene, and Billy felt a measure of tranquility just looking at him and watching the play of shadows as the seconds ticked away to midnight.

_I'm glad we met_, Billy thought. He gently nudged Teddy's shoulder when the clock began to chime midnight and, all the way up at 42nd street, the mad crowd began to cheer as the ball finally dropped.

"Happy New Year," Billy said, and for the first time in a _long_ time, it felt like that might actually come true.

**

**212-555-3129: ** Teddy's phone, Greg here. Teddy's too busy being a giant pussy to talk—can I take a message?

Hello?

Hello? …No, they hung up, dude. Hey, who the hell is Billy?

 

**

Billy hung up quickly, cheeks stained pink. He dropped the phone onto his bed, staring down at it as if he'd been bitten, feeling strangely hot and cold all at once.

Greg. Greg the Asshole. And Teddy laughing in the background, crying out protests as if he were trying to wrestle the phone away.

Billy jumped to his feet and paced to his desk, stomach twisting in complicated knots. He didn't know why it surprised him that Greg was hanging out with Teddy. They were friends, after all—Billy _knew_ that. He'd seen them together at the bookstore, when Greg had slung an easy arm around Teddy's shoulders and said, "_And you—we've got a party to go to. They'd be pretty disappointed if the guest of honor didn't show up, yeah_?"

But somehow it did surprise him. Maybe it was how easily Greg had called him a… called him a fag. Teddy didn't seem like the kind of guy who'd be friends with someone who could say that. Or maybe it was the way Greg had grabbed Billy's collar and yanked him away, as if he were a dog.

The way he'd threatened him outside of Lotus, violence barely leashed.

He glanced back toward his phone, biting his lower lip. Teddy probably had a good explanation for their friendship. Maybe they'd known each other for years, since they were kids, like Billy and Jamie. Maybe… Maybe Greg had something over him, like blackmail or something. Or maybe Teddy just didn't know what a bigoted jerk his friend was.

But no. No, he'd been there, looking sorry, as Greg yanked Billy away. He'd watched, and he hadn't done anything.

"_Teddy, you done geeksurfing yet? I got what we needed_."

Billy blew out a breath and let his forehead drop against the windowpane. The glass was cold against his flushed skin; he could see flurries of snow circling outside. His heart ached, and his chest felt tight, and his mind kept going, _but but but_, as he spun his mental wheels and tried to come up with excuses.

Teddy and Spider-Man. It was like the universe was trying to tell him something.

"Okay," Billy muttered, then louder, "_okay_." He turned and leaned back against the sill, looking down at his feet.

"Okay," he repeated.

Fact: He liked Teddy. He liked him a lot, even. Not just because he was hot as hell and made Billy's stomach twist in pleasant awareness. He seemed like such a nice guy, and he had a great smile, and he was funny and charming and easy to talk to.

Fact: Teddy was a superhero geek, like him. Maybe he kept it hidden from his other friends, or maybe he let his geek flag fly… but no, Greg the Asshole probably wouldn't have been so casual with putting Billy down if that were true. So, Teddy was a geek and kept it hidden.

Fact: Teddy seemed to like _him_ for some reason Billy couldn't put his finger on. Maybe it was _because_ he was a secret geek, and like most geeks, he longed for someone with whom to nerd out. Maybe Billy was the first person outside the internet that Teddy had met who could chat Iron Man and Kang the Conqueror without judging him.

Fact: Teddy was pretty much the whole package—hot, friendly, funny, smart, geeky. But—

Fact: Teddy was close friends with bigots.

Billy frowned and scuffed his foot against the floor, wanting to squirm away from that thought, but he couldn't: it was true, he knew it was true, and he couldn't think of any way to sugarcoat it. Maybe Teddy and Greg _had_ been friends for years and years—that didn't excuse Greg for being a bigot or Teddy for tolerating it. There were lines. There had to be.

Billy had to draw lines. He just wasn't sure he _could_.

He threw himself down on his bed, flinging an arm over his eyes, trying to blot out the image of Teddy's face lifted toward the moon as the clock hit midnight—the image of Greg thrusting Billy out of the crowd, expression twisted and fists clenched as Billy desperately tried to protect his face—Teddy grinning across the chess board at a glowering old man—Greg sliding an arm around Teddy's shoulders as if it belonged there.

As if Teddy were his.

As if. As if. As if.

"God!" Billy snarled, grabbing his pillow and flinging it at the wall. It hit Captain America square in the face and dropped to the floor with a soft _thwump_. He grabbed his other pillow and flung it too, not caring when it knocked over a row of figurines.

It would be one thing if Teddy were an asshole like Greg—then Billy could just cut him out of his life. But he wasn't—he _wasn't_—and Billy wasn't sure he'd be able to bring himself to do it.

"Asshole. Asshole. You stupid asshole," Billy muttered, covering his ears and curling up, hating himself. They didn't cover these kinds of situations in stupid after-school specials; Zach Morris didn't have to decide whether he wanted to be friends with Slater after A.C. Slater's best friend beat up a few _fags_.

He knew what his conscious was telling him to do. He knew what his _common sense_ was telling him to do. But his heart kept tightening up, bit by bit, stuttering hard in his chest as if in protest, until it hurt to fucking breathe. He wanted to be friends with Teddy. He wished he could be _more_ to Teddy. He wasn't sure he _should_. He wasn't sure it would be right to support Greg by association—to say it was okay for Teddy to like them both.

He wasn't sure of anything.

And it wasn't fair.

Shoulders hunched, legs drawn up, Billy stared balefully at the unhelpful posters of his heroes and had no fucking clue what to do next.

**

**CaptnAmazing:** I made it back—home sweet craphole. I can't believe school starts back tomorrow.  
**Avngerfan2119:** Yeah.  
**CaptnAmazing:** You be careful. I don't like that Kesler the Jackhole has been bothering you again.  
**Avngerfan2119:** It's okay. I can take care of it.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Uh-huh. That's us, right? Scrawny but scrappy, like two little superheroes.  
**Avngerfan2119:** Oh yeah. We're oh-so heroic.

**

Billy sat on the low brick wall, staring moodily into space. The snow flurries that had marked Christmas break had ended, leaving the ground dismal and brown. The last few leaves drifted from mostly bare trees, falling into soggy drifts.

He shifted, wincing despite himself, and reached up to gingerly touch his face. His nose and eye burned dully, throbbing in time with his heartbeat. It hurt to breathe.

_There's no way I can hide it this time_, he thought.

Billy dropped his hand with a sigh. His limbs felt heavy and listless, and all he wanted to do was curl up somewhere warm and sleep. He hadn't even seen it coming—that was the hell of it. Usually he was so careful, but this time… there had been too much on his mind.

Teddy had been on his mind; Teddy was _still_ on his mind, and his entire body ached like one giant bruise.

Fuck, no, he wasn't going to cry. He wasn't going to cap off his day by giving in to that.

Billy frowned down at his feet fiercely, trying to drag up the tattered shreds of his self-righteous anger. He didn't care that he was different, right? He and Jamie, they were geeks, they were nerds, they didn't fit in… and that was okay.

He was okay.

People like Kesler were jerks. Predators and jocks and bullies and—and—

"Oh hell," he said quietly, closing his eyes.

And then a soft, accented voice interrupted his thoughts. "Excuse me, are you all right?"

Billy opened his eyes, catching sight of a woman in red clothes hovering near him with palpable concern, but he didn't lift his head. "I'll be okay," he said dully. "Thanks."

"You're bleeding."

He reached up again to touch his nose, tentatively dabbing at the bead of blood still trickling down his busted lip. "Sorry," he said. "I thought it stopped."

"What happened?" She moved to sit beside him, pushing back the hood of her brightly colored jacket. Billy was aware of a tumble of loose curls and a sweet, earthy smell, like jasmine and fresh soil.

His nostrils flared at the scent, familiar and yet not, and he shrugged a shoulder reflexively, hand dropping away. "I kinda got punched in the face. Repeatedly."

"Why?"

"Because I'm…" A fag. Stupid. Weak. Lame. "Different."

"A mutant?"

He snorted, then winced in pain. "I wish," he muttered. If he were a mutant, he would at least have the tools to fight back.

"No, you don't. Believe me," the woman said, tugging a handkerchief from her pocket. She lifted his chin with gentle yet firm fingers, turning his face toward hers so that she could inspect the damage. "Being a mutant only makes people want to punch you more."

Billy's eyes flickered to hers, then widened. He felt a jolt of shock, like lightning coursing through him, chasing away the remnants of pain. "Oh, my God… You're… the Scarlet Witch." He was talking to _the Scarlet Witch_, an Avenger, a hero. One of his heroes. " You're my favorite Avenger," Billy said earnestly before flushing darkly and ducking his head. "I can't believe I just said that out loud."

"Don't worry," Wanda murmured with a warm smile, pulling his face back up to dab away the blood. "I won't tell She-Hulk if you won't."

"Deal." His eyes moved back to her face as if drawn by lodestones. She was so beautiful—prettier in person than in the news—and her voice was low and deep and lulling. Somehow he'd always expected her to have a higher voice—pretty, soprano—but Wanda's real voice was better than anything he'd imagined, better than he _could_ have imagined. Everything about her was wonderful, he thought dazedly, letting her wipe away the last of the blood. "I…I can't believe I'm actually talking to you."

"Why?"

Billy blinked, and she dropped her hands to look at him, neatly folding the handkerchief away. "Um. Because you're… you're a hero."

Wanda tucked back a reddish curl, one brow arching. "I see. And that means I'm not a woman as well?"

"Um. What?"

"I'm not human? I don't go on walks or meet strangers or talk to boys with all the world perched on their shoulders?"

He shrugged his shoulders, embarrassed. "No. I mean. That's not what I meant. It's just. You're the Scarlet Witch. You're an Avenger. I guess I just… never pictured you out of your costume."

"You never pictured me out of my costume, hm? That is a relief."

Wanda's dark eyes danced mischievously and Billy cocked his head, missing the joke. Then it hit him and he went red, nearly tumbling off the low wall with embarrassment. "Oh my God, not like that! I mean, like that, but—I never—Crap, why couldn't I have just let Kesler kill me?" he said with a mortified laugh, covering his face. Now he couldn't help but picturing her out of her costume, and that was almost as wrong as imagining one of his teachers naked. Or, God, his _mother_.

"Tch, no. You shouldn't say that," Wanda said firmly, teasing gone out of her voice. She touched his wrist, gently tugging his hands from his face. Her fingers were soft and cool against his skin. "Walk with me," Wanda said suddenly, standing, "and tell me what happened."

Billy looked up at her, bewildered—somewhere between mortified and awed that she even cared. Nevertheless, he stumbled to his feet, grabbing his bookbag and slinging it carefully over his shoulder. They walked together, going slowly because it hurt Billy to move too fast. His ribs ached with each step he took, and he thought he'd probably be in even more pain in the morning, but somehow standing next to her, it didn't seem so bad.

"Well?"

He glanced up at her through his lashes. "It's not…it's just this guy at school. Well, these guys."

"And they bully you?"

"Boys being boys. That's what I should say, I guess. Or maybe, it's nothing, I can handle it. But, yeah. They do."

"Because you're different."

He winced a little, looking out toward the skyline. The city was grey and lavender, dusk gathering rapidly. "Yeah," he said, feeling unaccountably sad, "because I'm different."

Her fingers brushed his. "And you cannot pretend to be like the others. You cannot make compromises to fit in."

"No. Stupid, I know. If I just tried harder, it'd probably be all right." He wondered whether that was what Teddy did—tried hard enough. Teddy who looked so cool, who could laugh and sling his arm around Greg's neck, and who secretly made bad jokes and longed to see Spider-Man. "I just. Can't."

"No. And you shouldn't. But you shouldn't turn your cheek and let anyone hurt you, either."

Billy looked up, surprised. He hadn't expected that. "I'm sorry—what?"

"You should fight back. You should always fight back."

He shook his head, stunned into silence. That was the opposite of anything his parents had ever told him, the opposite of anything he'd ever told himself, though there were times—plenty of them—when he'd wished he _could_ fight back. He just wasn't sure he'd be able to—not to save his own hide.

"So, when you see this bully at school tomorrow, what are you going to do?" Wanda asked, breaking into his thoughts.

Billy paused, making a face as he considered offering a bold lie. Instead he answered honestly. "Run as quickly as possible in the other direction."

"No, you're going to stand your ground. Show him you're not afraid."

"But I _am_ afraid," he protested. "If I had powers—"

She stopped and he turned to face her, a little desperate. That was the crux of it, wasn't it? Even if he wanted to fight back, to be a hero—and fine, yes, he wanted that more than he cared to admit—there was nothing he could do. Boys like Kesler or Greg the Asshole could always push him back down again, make him feel small.

But Wanda was shaking her head, expression stern. "You do. Everyone has some gift—something they do better than anyone else."

Billy tried to smile. "I don't think my keen analytical skills are any match for John Kesler's simian strength, so I plan to stay out of his way."

"In my experience, the more we do what other people want us to, the more we get into trouble. Be yourself, and the Keslers of the world can't touch you."

"Despite all physical evidence to the contrary," he said, gesturing to his battered face.

Unexpectedly, Wanda smiled, lips curving up at the corners as she looked at him. She reached out to touch a finger to the tip of his nose and Billy instinctively closed his eyes, lifting his face toward the caress.

Red light washed over him—through him; he felt it coursing through his blood in a rosy wave, warm and bright and beautiful. Billy gasped in a breath, lashes flickering: it felt like a thousand-year-old thirst being quenched; it felt like sunlight after he'd clawed his way from a grave; it felt—

It felt like every overblown analogy he could muster, and more. It felt like a homecoming.

"What physical evidence?" Wanda murmured, kissing his cheek. The smell of jasmine and earth surrounded him, comforting. "Stand your ground," she said. "See what happens. You may be surprised."


	2. Lonely Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy reached out, one hand sliding over Teddy’s slick, warm shoulder, and then he was floating forward and into his arms, twining his own about Teddy’s neck. He rested his cheek against his own bicep, lips a breath away from that warm, golden skin he wanted so much.
> 
> “Thank you,” Billy murmured, hips bumping against Teddy’s, legs moving lazily to help keep them from drowning. Teddy made a low noise in return, reaching behind Billy to grasp the ledge, and somehow…somehow, that brought Billy’s back flush against the pool wall, Teddy’s arms over him, penning him in.
> 
>  
> 
> Or: What if Billy and Teddy met each other before the Young Avengers were formed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is a Greg scene in this chapter (where he taunts Billy) that some may find triggering. If you think you may be triggered, start skipping when you see:
> 
> _It turned out Teddy was barely late at all. “Hey,” Billy said, not looking up from his book. “What’s a 5-letter word for a kind of cavity?”_
> 
> You may pick up again at:
> 
> _Billy didn’t let Teddy say any more. He shut his phone and held it between numb hands, wondering if he’d ever really had a chance._

**

“The places, our old haunts  
Will miss us when we’re gone  
We can never move on.”  
—**Lonely Ghosts**, O+S

**

“Stand your ground,” the Scarlet Witch had murmured, lips brushing Billy’s cheek. He’d been surrounded by the scent of her, then, the sense of binding, of connection. He’d felt like he could face anything. “See what happens. You may be surprised.”

That had been weeks ago. He’d been crumbling ever since.

Billy curled his fingers around his cellphone. He hadn’t confronted Kesler in all that time. He hadn’t stood up for himself, or found a way to face him head-on, or _anything_. Instead, he’d taken to hiding in closets or staying after class to talk to teachers, timing it so their paths never crossed. And as for Greg the Asshole and Teddy…

He flipped open his phone, staring blankly at the all-too-familiar numbers glowing green and accusing in the dim light of his bedroom. He’d deleted Teddy from his phone weeks ago, determined to be strong about _something_, clinging tight to his resolve to end all contact. He hadn’t managed to find the courage to tell _Teddy_ they were no longer talking, however, and the other boy kept calling, tension and temptation mounting in Billy with each skipped message.

He hadn’t let himself listen to any of them. He knew he wouldn’t be strong enough to hear Teddy’s voice and stand firm.

But.

_God_.

He _missed_ him.

Billy slowly sank to the edge of his bed. Bare shafts of sunlight struggled in through the half-closed blinds, painting feeble stripes across his floor. Downstairs, he could hear his brothers running around, bickering as usual. From outside came the steady drone of traffic.

And Teddy had left another message.

_Don’t, no, don’t_, Billy told himself, even as he pressed a button, calling up his voicemail. He’d stopped talking to Teddy for a _reason_. Teddy was friends with bullies, homophobes, bigots. _He_ wasn’t one—Billy knew that, knew that deep to his core—but it almost didn’t matter if Teddy was a good guy, not when he let himself be friends with the bad ones. You had to take a stand about these things, Billy thought desperately. You had to. _He_ had to.

But. But maybe if he just listened to a few of those messages…

**212-555-3129:** Hey Billy, it’s Teddy. Was that you who called a few hours ago? I mean…that’s a stupid question. I looked at my call history—I _know_ that was you. Sorry about all…that. I was over at Greg’s and he was… Anyway, call me back when you get this. Bye.

**

**212-555-3129:** Hey, it’s Teddy. I was just calling to see if you wanted to hang out sometime this weekend. Did you know there was miniature golf in the city? It’s this tiny little craphole in Queens, but some local artists have been making crazy sculptures and pits and stuff for it, and it’s supposed to be pretty cool. Let me know if you’re interested.

**

**212-555-3129:** Hey Billy, it’s me again. Me-Teddy, I mean. I’m hanging out in Union Square, noodling around with Clarence. What? Oh, sorry. Clarence said he knows fuck-all about noodling. Sorry, sir. Anyway, if you want to come down and play a game or two, you’d probably be saving my life. Or at least the tattered shreds of my dignity.

**

**212-555-3129:** Hey, so, either you’ve been kidnapped by Kang the Conqueror or you were a figment of my imagination meant to teach me a Very Special Lesson about, I don’t know, sharing or something. Either way, I’m starting to feel a little awkward leaving all these messages. So… I’ll talk to you later, I guess?

**

**212-555-3129:** So it looks like even I can take a hint. Eventually. Whatever I did to piss you off, I’m sorry. You’re a pretty cool guy. Anyway, I was just calling one last time to tell you I wasn’t…going…to call you anymore, crap, okay, I see the glaring flaw in that logic. But. Well. Anyway. Just… Goodbye, Billy.

And that was all of them.

Billy drew up his legs, heels rasping across the comforter, and dropped his forehead against his knees. He felt hot and shaky all over. It had been such a normal day. Andy and David squabbling over whether Randy Orton could kick CM Punk’s ass, his father in the study with his earplugs in and his _I’m concentrating, leave me alone_ frown on, his mother baking deflated cupcakes for a school sale and cursing when she thought no one could hear her. “_You stupid little…rise, rise, damn it_!”

And up in his bedroom, sitting between Wednesday’s haul of comics and his Trig textbook, his cellphone had been ringing.

He drew in a breath, squeezing his eyes shut when it went choppy, serrated. He shouldn’t have listened to those messages. He should have just deleted them and kept on pretending _Teddy who_, or even _Teddy, that jerk_, or, sometimes wistfully, just, _Teddy_, all small and stupidly longing. He was _longing_ for some kid he barely knew, some gorgeous blond ideal with matching dimples and incredible blue eyes and stupid laces that always came untied and a way of making even Billy’s most awkward edges seem to fit just right and—

And—

_Fuck it._

Billy straightened, heart jackhammering, and flipped open his phone. He pressed buttons hard and fast, breath frozen in his throat, not letting his better sense take control as the phone rang, and rang, and rang.

Teddy picked up on the seventh ring. “Hello,” he said, voice flat, a little cold, and Billy covered his eyes with one hand, curling up small and tight.

“Hello?” Teddy repeated while Billy fought for words. Teddy sighed, and there was a soft rustle, like he was hanging up.

“Wait!” Billy blurted.

The rustling stopped.

“Wait,” he said again. He pressed his palm against his right eye, a steady, almost painful pressure. He could hear Teddy breathing over the line, slow and steady, almost…soothing, in a weird way. Waiting for him to continue. “I, I’m sorry,” he finally managed before falling silent.

There was a long pause, then Teddy sighed. “Look,” he said, voice still frostier than Billy ever remembered hearing it, but not mean. More resigned than anything. “Billy, you don’t have to—”

“No,” he interrupted. He cradled the phone between ear and shoulder, wrapping his arms around his legs and digging his nails into his shins, as if the eight little pinpricks of pain could keep him focused. “No, I mean, I do. I do have to. Explain. And, and probably apologize. It’s not— I didn’t want to. Avoid you. Or, or anything. I didn’t want to. But I thought I had to, I thought— It was a—”

The words weren’t coming out right, were tangling together, and Billy would have happily let the whole world invert and broil his bones in the Earth’s core or something if it meant he could take the whole messy, emotional tangle _back_.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he finally said, quietly.

There was another pause, long enough that Billy began to think Teddy had hung up after all. He straightened and pulled the phone away from his ear, watching the seconds tick by before pressing it back again.

Finally, almost reluctantly, Teddy said, “Okay. Well. Do you want to…meet and talk or something?”

“Yes,” Billy said immediately. “Yes, sure, please.”

“I’ve got to stay home and wait on the Fresh Direct guy, but you could come over if you wanted. Or we could meet up some other time if you didn’t want to haul over to Brooklyn.”

“Brooklyn’s great; I love Brooklyn.” He scrambled up, flailing for his laptop and jabbing the power button. “Everyone thinks Manhattan is this giant cultural mecca, but Brooklyn is… Brooklyn is, like, great, and, um—”

Awesome. Now he was babbling like a complete moron.

But Teddy stepped in smoothly to save him. “Brooklyn’s where everything cool comes to die an ironic death,” he said dryly, some of that frostiness melting away. “Do you have a pen or something?”

“No, but I’ve got Hopstop.” He pulled up the browser and quickly entered the web address. “Okay, ready.”

Teddy gave his address, then repeated it just to make sure Billy got it down the first time. “Just call when you get here and I’ll buzz you up,” he said. “It’s the big, ugly building with the pink brick and the eyes of God judging your eternal soul. You can’t miss it.”

“Eyes of… Okay.” He wasn’t going to question it. He wasn’t going to question any of this, Billy decided fervently. “It’ll take me about an hour or so.”

“I’ll see you in an hour, then,” Teddy said, before adding, “Goodbye, Billy.” And this time—_this time_—the words didn’t make him want to cry at all.

“Bye, Teddy.” He waited until the line went dead, then closed the faceplate and dropped the phone onto his desk. Billy drew in a long, shaky breath, then…deflated, dropping into a crouch, head falling forward. He’d done it. He’d caved, at last, and called Teddy. He knew he should probably feel ashamed. At the very least, he should be mad at himself, or disappointed. 

“I don’t care,” Billy said quietly. Then, louder, “I don’t _care_.”

So what if he was a coward who couldn’t face up to some bullies at school? So what if he was so weak he couldn’t even stand up for his own _principles_ in the face of a model-perfect boy with warm blue eyes and a laugh that made his toes curl? He was tired of trying to be some hero or whatever, Billy decided, standing and going to hunt down his shoes. He jammed his feet into the tall, fleece-lined boots, grabbing his coat and scarf and slinging them over his arm. He jotted down the directions from Hopstop, then snagged his wallet, keys, and Metro card, pausing as he held his phone.

Billy stared down at it, then made a face and flipped it open, going to Teddy’s last message. He resolutely entered the number _back_ into his Contacts, then erased the message so he wouldn’t be tempted to listen to it over and over again. His iPod slipped into his pocket and his earbuds slung over his shoulders, Billy hurried out of his room and down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“Out!” he called, grabbing his knit hat from the hatstand. He jammed it onto his head and slipped out into the cold winter’s air before either of his parents could say anything, coat still slung over his arm, breath misting white and heavy. He tipped his face up, squinting at the grey-cloudy sky, then shrugged on his coat as he made his way down the stoop and along the sidewalk, careful of patches of black ice. The guy who worked at the bodega’s flower shop was curled in the far corner of the stall, shivering next to a space heater, and Billy fought a sudden, horrifying urge to bring Teddy _flowers_, like that wouldn’t just compound the weirdness.

“God, brain, stop it,” he muttered, pushing in his earbuds and cranking up the first song that came on rotation. He tried to focus on Yoshimi and her pink robots while he waited for the train, playing it on repeat a few times before spinning the wheel for something else. By the time he crowded onto the N, he’d managed to…not exactly mellow, but at least distract himself until suddenly he was in Brooklyn and it was time to switch to the R.

Billy scuffed his feet as he waited at the station, filling his head with lyrics until he couldn’t think about anything else. Not the Scarlet Witch, not Greg the Asshole, not even Teddy. That got him all the way to Teddy’s cross-street, where a woman was selling homemade churros and two boys kicked the latest snowfall into brown, mushy piles.

Billy slipped his hand into his pocket to pause the music, staring down the avenue. A quarter of the way in, there was a huge pink-brown brick building, faded to the color of rotting salmon, window air units jutting out like snaggleteeth. It was taller than the buildings flanking it by a good six stories, and a huge rectangle had been whitewashed onto the bricks on one side, giant, faded eyes staring balefully through a pair of Castlebrook’s Finest Spectacles.

The eyes of God. Right.

His hands were shaking again as he stuffed the earbuds into his pocket. Billy hesitated, emotions rising up in his chest, like bile, and he wondered dizzily if he was going to be sick here within sight of Teddy’s apartment. _Teddy’s apartment_. Where Teddy was waiting for him, and he’d go in and see him again, but he’d also have to explain why he’d been avoiding him for a few weeks and— “Oh God,” Billy gasped, turning around, fighting the urge to flee. He met the gaze of the startled woman in her puffy brown coat and tried to swallow the acidic burn of nerves. “I mean, oh God, those smell great!” he offered feebly. “Um, how much?”

So, churros ended up being pretty cheap in Sunset Park—good to know—and by the time he finally managed to make himself walk up to the huge salmon-colored building, his gloved hands were lightly dusted with cinnamon and sugar. He shifted his deathgrip on the bag and pulled out his cellphone. He had to juggle that between his hands for a moment, pressing it against his chest as he bit the finger of one glove and tugged it off, shoving it into his coat pocket before shifting hands again.

This time, Teddy answered on the second ring.

“Hey,” Billy said. “So, I never took God for the horn-rimmed glasses type.”

“It’s Brooklyn. Just be glad he doesn’t have a mustache and a pipe.” There was a rustle over the line, then the big outer doors buzzed. Billy slipped inside, letting them clang shut behind him. It was such a _final_ sound that it was almost, weirdly, a relief. “You remember the floor and apartment number?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it. I’ll see you in a few.”

The elevator was old and smelled like cabbage. The hallways were painted a dingy, unfortunate tan, contrasting oddly with the green-flecked linoleum. It wasn’t the worst place Billy had been—by city standards, it was hardly a rat trap or anything—but he felt weirdly conscious of how different it was from his own brownstone on the Upper East. Jamie’s family lived in a near-identical brownstone a few streets over, and Sam’s family had moved half a _block_ away, in an unusual white brownstone with dark green-black window boxes that were always filled with flowers in the summer. He didn’t exactly have a huge number of friends, but he was suddenly very aware of how all the people he really knew lived in the same kind of upper-middle-class bubble he did, where the paint wasn’t flaking from the ceiling and none of the lights were blown out and the hallways didn’t smell like twenty different peoples’ dinner.

He chewed on his bottom lip, grip tightening on the bag of churros, and stopped in front of Teddy’s door. Billy brushed his fingers through his hair and dusted off his coat, glancing over his shoulder as one of Teddy’s neighbors—an older woman in a housecoat, once-black hair mostly white—shuffled out. She narrowed her eyes at him and he fought a weird flash of guilt as he knocked three times with his knuckles.

Her mouth drew into a fierce line, face wrinkling up like the ends of a drawstring purse. Then the door opened and a wave of warm, sweet, faintly aquatic-scented air hit him, and Billy turned instinctively toward it, every atom in his body going _Oh yes, yes please_.

Teddy.

Teddy stood in the doorway, broad shoulders filling it, already smiling out of the corner of his mouth. His blond bangs were falling into one eye and the too-long arms of his sweater—the grey-and-black one, the one he’d been wearing the first time they’d met—dangled over his hands. He looked…_amazing_, welcoming, not at all angry, and Billy swallowed before thrusting out the bag of churros, like a bouquet. “Churro?”

The smile spread, dimples flashing. “Sure. Actually, I think I have some chocolate we can have with them. Come on in. Hi, Mrs. Alvarez,” Teddy added with a little wave toward the glowering woman.

She muttered something under her breath and turned to shuffle down the hall.

“Don’t mind her,” he said, stepping back to let Billy inside. “She hates everyone who comes to visit us. She used to hate us, too, but when she broke her hip a year ago, Mom and I took care of her cooking and cleaning up for the few weeks before her daughter could fly in, so we’ve been downgraded from potential axe murderers to the shifty sort you don’t want to leave alone with your silverware.”

Billy slipped inside, stooping instinctively to tug off his winter gear and boots. “Because when I think of you, I think mad cutlery heists,” he said absently, glancing up to get a good look at the apartment. It was smallish but not postage-stamp-sized. Nicer than he’d been expecting from the hallway. The walls were a cheerful Tiffany blue, or robin’s egg, or whatever, with white trim and curtains. One wall was taken up by a huge bookshelf, and the one over the comfortable-looking couch was a gallery of mismatched framed watercolors. Billy straightened, sock-footed, and moved closer to get a better look. There were planets and starlight and cherry blossom trees. Thor calling down a bolt of lightning and a woman sitting in a chair with her chin on her fist, curves of her form done in a light pencil, hair a yellow watercolor cloud. Some were better than others—some were pretty amazing—and it took a few moments of quiet staring to realize he was looking at the progression of skill of one artist over a span of years, probably, from the blotchy (but still recognizable) grey poodle to the spire of the Chrysler building.

Billy turned on Teddy, shocked. “Did _you_ do these?” he demanded.

Teddy shrugged a shoulder, sheepish. “Yeah, sure,” he said, passing by Billy on his way to the kitchen. “It’s kind of like a hobby.”

“If your hobby is to be _amazing_,” Billy countered, following. The kitchen was a bright, sunny green with cool-looking vintage postcards modge podged along the countertops. “Which probably shouldn’t shock me by now.”

“Hello, look who’s talking, Mr. Genius.”

Billy leaned against the counter and watched as Teddy dug out a bowl. “Yeah, sure, _Picasso_. I’ll remember that next time Clarence totally kicks my ass at chess.”

Teddy laughed, grabbing the chocolate, and it was like they hadn’t had a sort-of falling out at all. It was so easy with him, Billy thought happily, the way it had only ever been easy with Jamie. The back-and-forth, the banter, the effortless way Teddy got his nerdy jokes and lobbed them back at him.

And Teddy was still talking while Billy was busy mooning.

“…brains over anything else any day. You’re like…Iron Man. Or Mr. Fantastic, actually.” He moved around the kitchen with the kind of familiar ease Billy could never have hoped to fake. Billy pretty much knew how to microwave Hot Pockets without anything more than a mildly devastating burn. But Teddy was grabbing pots and shaving chocolate and…pulling out a thermometer or something? Weird. “Mr. Fantastic is the leader for a reason.”

Billy thread his fingers together, watching Teddy with open fascination. “So does that make you Captain America, then?”

“Nah, that makes me the Human Torch.”

“Um, _guh_,” Billy said, without even _thinking_, because this was exactly the kind of conversation he and Jamie had had for years. It didn’t even occur to him what a, what a weird, _queer_ thing that was to say until he realized Teddy was looking over his shoulder at him, brows faintly arched. “I mean,” he added, straightening so fast he nearly brained himself on the cupboard. “I mean, I, uh, fuck.”

Teddy went back to melting chocolate for their churros. “No explanation needed, man. Were you anywhere near the Brooklyn Bridge when he was fighting Doom last spring?” 

And the conversation flowed from there, casual and friendly and easily ignoring Billy’s slip. Billy didn’t even feel the insane urge to toss in a halfhearted, _and wow, the Invisible Woman’s boobs_! or anything, which pretty much meant Teddy was conversational _magic_. He still felt weird and geeky and neurotic, but not in a bad way, not in a way that made him want to stop talking or anything.

He jumped in to lend a hand toward the end, and before long Teddy was leading him out of the kitchen. Billy had paper towels tucked under one arm and his oven-mitted hands were cupped around a bowl of steaming, melted chocolate, so it took him a moment to realize they were passing through the living room and heading toward what had to be Teddy’s bedroom.

Billy hesitated just as Teddy was opening the door at the end of the short hall. When he’d crawled out of bed this morning, he’d never dreamed he’d find himself here. It was almost too much—but he was too curious to pull back now. Billy licked his lips before forcing himself to take just a few steps more, passing from the cheerful yellow hall into the cool turquoise-and-green bedroom.

Billy’s room was a plain while box plastered from floor to ceiling with superhero paraphernalia. There was no rhyme or reason to it—he just stuck stuff up where he found space. Teddy’s room was…

Deliberate. It felt deliberate, like a scene from a movie. Not staged, exactly; it all felt very lived-in. But effortlessly cool in a way that was alien to Billy.

The walls had been painted in strange, swooshing, blotted colors, mingling shades of blue and green and yellow-white and even, if he looked closely, some purple. The colors moved in undulations, not covering entire walls, sweeping from one area to the next in a way that kept his eye moving. It was like, like…

And then he saw it, saw the Aurora Borealis sweeping across the landscape of Teddy’s room, spotted the dots of glow-in-the-dark stars clustered over the half-made bed, and he was pretty sure _this_ was what falling for someone felt like. He just wanted to turn to Teddy and cup his face between his palms and tell him how brilliant and amazing and _unique_ and wonderful and everything, how _everything_ he was.

Billy swallowed and turned to stare at Teddy.

Teddy sat gracefully on the floor, putting the glasses of milk and bowl of churros next to his knee. “So I’m also a bit of a space nerd,” he admitted, sheepish. 

Billy dropped down across from him, still a little dazed, and set the chocolate and paper towels between them. “It’s a wonder your head doesn’t get flushed down the toilet at school every day,” he murmured, which made Teddy laugh and say, “Believe me, it used to.” Which was almost enough to blow Billy’s mind all over again, but before he could press for details, Teddy continued, “So, why exactly were you avoiding me?” And, oh, right. That.

He looked down, grateful for the oven mitts covering his hands—they gave him something to _do_, at least, tugging them off one after the other, folding them together and setting them aside. He wasn’t sure he could meet Teddy’s eyes when he talked about all that.

“Um. It’s stupid,” Billy began, then had to stop himself. Because it wasn’t stupid. It really wasn’t. It was probably even now the right thing to do, even though he knew he didn’t have the strength to distance himself from Teddy again. “I mean. It was. Um. It was Greg?”

Billy glanced up in time to see Teddy stiffen.

“…Greg told you to keep clear of me?” he asked, voice low.

“No! No, no, nothing like that.” Though he kind of had. He’d grabbed Billy by the front of his shirt and shoved him away, like he was a dog, like he was _nothing_. “Um, just, he. My dad always said that the company you keep is a, um, a sort of silent endorsement of their values, and I didn’t want to— I mean, I didn’t think I should— But it’s, like, nothing _you_ did or said or, or anything, it was just… And it’s stupid anyway, so.”

Teddy reached across the space separating them and tangled his fingers in Billy’s sleeve. Billy looked up, startled, fingers twitching because Teddy’s hand was _so close_. But his eyes were serious, his expression so painfully anxious that Billy wanted to apologize, for anything, for all of it, just to wipe that look away. “Did he do something to hurt you, Billy?”

“No,” Billy said immediately, though he could tell Teddy didn’t believe him, not fully. “Not really. He just…said stuff, and maybe—”

“Pushed you, yeah. I remember.”

The first time they’d met, Greg had come downstairs to collect Teddy. He’d casually shoved Billy away then, not hard enough to hurt anything but his pride, and Teddy’s eyes had been so sad then, too, like he wanted to go to him but…couldn’t.

“Billy,” Teddy said, fingers tangling tighter, the calloused tips _just_ brushing the skin of Billy’s wrist. “Billy, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, and I don’t want you to think that I’m…like that. Greg is… It’s complicated. I know that sounds stupid, and it’s not enough, really, but it’s complicated.”

“Like Facebook,” Billy quipped weakly.

Teddy huffed a soft laugh. “Like Facebook, except kind of, a little, well, mean sometimes. But not all bad. Just.” He let go. “I can’t excuse it. Me either. I can’t excuse me. But. I mean, I’m _sorry_ for what happened then, and anything else that may have happened—” there was a question in his tone that Billy decided fervently he was never going to answer “—and I know he can be an ass, but it _is_…complicated, and I think you’re amazing. I think you’re one of the coolest people I’ve met in a long time, and I’d like us to be friends, good friends, though I get it, I do, if you just can’t.”

Teddy stopped and took a deep breath. Billy breathed with him, mind whirring over _I think you’re amazing. I think you’re one of the coolest people I’ve met in a long time_ like the spokes of a rotary engine. Just turning over and over and over again, the blood rushing in his ears.

“I,” Billy said, because it was obvious Teddy was waiting for something. Some response to his overture. “I, um. Gosh, can we buy matching necklaces?”

Teddy blinked, then cracked up, color flooding his cheeks. 

“No, seriously. Mine can say BFF and yours can say Forever. God, everyone would be _so jealous_,” Billy insisted, laughing with him, and it felt like his heart was soaring, like everything inside him was lifting up and up and up as Teddy reached over and pushed at his shoulder playfully. They were _friends_. They were _good friends_.

“Smartass.”

“And then, _oh gosh_, we could cut our palms and become, like, _blood brothers_.”

**

**Avngerfan2119:** Okay, so.  
**CaptnAmazing:** So?  
**CaptnAmazing:** Soooo?  
**Avngerfan2119:** I’m thinking of a way to word this.  
**Avngerfan2119:** Um, so.  
**CaptnAmazing:** You’re doing a great job there, Billy. Use those words!  
**Avngerfan2119:** _Shut up_! I was over at Teddy’s place today.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Wait, what? Seriously?  
**Avngerfan2119:** Yeah.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Teddy the guy you decided you weren’t going to hang out with anymore? Teddy the guy your principles totally erased from your life? That Teddy?  
**Avngerfan2119:** Well! He called and said goodbye and I just, I don’t know, whatever! It’s fine.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Wow, Teddy. What mad moves you’ve got.  
**Avngerfan2119:** Jamie.  
**CaptnAmazing:** No, seriously, stand back world! It’s Teddy the mastah seducer. So when’s your first date?  
**Avngerfan2119:** We’re meeting at Forbidden Planet Friday before catching a movie.  
**Avngerfan2119:** But, wait, it’s not a date.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Suuuuuuuure.

**

“She-Hulk or the Hulk?”

“Are we talking in terms of most awesome or most likely win a cage brawl?” Billy crouched to dig through yet another overstuffed longbox, trying to shove his fingers between tightly wedged comics to get a peek at the covers. Justice League, Justice League, Superman, Justice League. “Oh, hey, Young Justice.”

Teddy leaned against the uppermost row of longboxes, flipping idly through his selections, sorting them into piles. “Hm. Most awesome. Though now I’m starting to picture She-Hulk as Tina Turner in _Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome_, which, _thanks_ for that.”

Billy looked up with a quick grin. “That pretty much would win her most awesome _forever_. Anyway, She-Hulk, easy. She’s like a superlawyer or something. Hulk’s pretty cool, but he’s usually just, you know…”

“Hulkish?”

“Yeah. And that’s _scary_, but I don’t know how many points it gives you for awesome. My turn.” Billy set a few issues of Young Justice aside and crabwalked over a step, digging into the next longbox. It was late Friday afternoon and Forbidden Planet was swarming with people. He and Teddy had met in Union Square and walked over, stopping by the AMC to grab tickets for a 7:00 movie. The huge comic book store was located in a perfect geek triad with the movie theater and a restaurant known for its chocolate syringes. He and Jamie had made the three-point trek many a time, and it was cool being here with Teddy. Weird, too, because he kept expecting to look up and see Jamie leaning over him—dorky, grinning Jamie with his curly light brown hair and whiplash thin frame. Instead, every time Teddy shifted, Billy sensed the movement, the astonishingly graceful, muscular frame hovering just to his right. And there were _girls_ watching the two of them, too, casting surreptitious glances their way before ducking their heads and whispering together.

That would _never_ have happened when it was just him and Jamie. But Teddy didn’t even seem to notice the admiring glances he kept drawing.

“Your turn,” Teddy urged, lightly nudging Billy with his scuffed sneaker. The shoelaces were beginning to unravel, their loose bow listing drunkenly. Teddy had taken a pen to the shoes at some point, Billy noticed, drawing loops and whorls and complicated shapes into the canvas.

“Um. Cap or Iron Man?”

Teddy nudged his hip again. “That’s _cheating_,” he said, aggrieved. “Come on, it’s not fair to give an actual Sophie’s Choice.”

Billy bit back a grin, grabbing his comics and straightening. “Okay, fine, I’ll give you an easy one. Iron Man or Hercules?”

Teddy paused, then slowly cocked his head. Billy’s brows shot up. “Seriously?” Billy demanded.

“Well.”

“Seriously? You have to think about this? _Seriously_?”

“I don’t know what you’ve got against Hercules,” Teddy said. “Hercules is awesome.”

“Yeah, but is he more awesome than _Iron Man_?” Billy shook his head when Teddy hesitated again. “Oh my God, I may have to rethink this whole hanging out with you thing. You’re clearly deranged.”

Teddy grinned at him. “Says the guy whose favorite Justice Leaguer is _Plastic Man_.”

“Hey!” Billy lightly thwacked Teddy’s arm with his comics. “Lay off Plastic Man. Plastic Man is cool.”

“Cool I’ll give you. ‘Coolest’ you’re going to have defend with your life. Hey, speaking of the League, which trade should I get: _The Obsidian Age_ or _I Can’t Believe It’s Not the Justice League_?”

Billy cocked his head, studying the two covers. “Hard one. Why don’t you get both?”

“Nah, I don’t have the money to swing it.” Teddy looked from the back of one trade to the other, weighing the two, chewing on his lower lip. Billy glanced away, catching those same girls watching them again—watching _Teddy_—their eyes sliding down the line of his back to his…

_Okay then_!

“_I Can’t Believe It’s Not the Justice League_,” Teddy decided, adding it to the smaller of the two piles. He picked up the bigger stack and began resorting comics back where they belonged. He was actually being careful to make sure they were returned into their proper order, Billy noticed, watching him. Unlike anyone else in the history of comic book stores, ever. “Batman or Wonder Woman?”

Billy snagged a few comics from Teddy, moving to help him. He had to fight back the sudden impulse to buy them for Teddy, figuring Teddy wouldn’t like that very much. He wondered, idly, what kind of allowance Teddy’s mother managed to give him, then quickly squelched that thought. “I’m pretty sure Batman would make me pay if I didn’t pick him. Sorry, Wonder Woman.”

One of the girls was being prodded forward by her friends as Billy and Teddy collected their comics. Billy watched her out of the corner of his eyes, a faint curl of jealousy making him want to do something stupid like put a hand on Teddy’s elbow or something. Teddy glanced over as if sensing Billy’s distraction, and the girl blurted, “Hi!”

“Hey,” Teddy said, offering a wide, friendly smile. Then he nudged Billy with his elbow, passing the trio without another glance. “Come on, you’re lagging here. Your turn.”

_Huh_, Billy thought, gripping his comics against his chest. “Um. Um. Okay, Booster Gold or Blue Beetle?”

“Jaime or Ted?”

“Ted.”

“Billy, come on. What did we say about Sophie’s Choice?” Teddy demanded, and it was great, it was _amazing_, being here like this, falling into rhythms as if they’d known each other for years, nothing but time stretching out before them.

**

**CaptnAmazing:** Hey!  
**CaptnAmazing:** Billllly.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Biiiiiilllllllyyyy. Are you there? I’m just going to keep iming you until you respond, dorkus, so you may as well get your ass over here.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.  
**Avngerfan2119:** Oh my God, why do you suck so much?  
**CaptnAmazing:** Finally! I thought I’d have to send Deadpool after you or something.  
**Avngerfan2119:** Don’t even joke about that, Jamie. Seriously.  
**CaptnAmazing:** No, _seriously_, you texted me and promised more details. So, details! What went down?  
**CaptnAmazing:** Come on, I am living vicariously through your awesome run-ins with Avengers and your dates with SuperHottie.  
**Avngerfan2119:** They’re not dates! We’re not dating! We’re just hanging out.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Uh-huh. Hanging out, like, _constantly_. Nothing datey about that.  
**Avngerfan2119:** I hung out with you _constantly_ for years and _we_ never dated.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Um, you could only be so lucky.

**

“Don’t forget your papers on Westward Expansionism are due _first thing_ tomorrow,” Mr. Carlson said, grabbing the eraser and beginning to wipe down the chalkboard. There was a collective groan, rumbling from the back of the class all the way up to the front where Billy was sitting, backpack already fastened and perched by his knee. He shifted in his seat, eyes flicking toward the clock as the second hand made its way around the wide, white face.

_2:59_

“Complain all you want, but you’ll be even sorrier if you don’t bring them in. I expect them to be—”

_3:00_

The bell rang, shrill, and Billy practically vaulted out of his desk. He was the first one to the door, despite being three rows away, slipping out into the hall as he dragged on his bookbag. He didn’t bother looking to his left, toward where Kesler would be coming out of English further down the hall. Instead, he hooked an immediate right and began weaving through the throngs of students, darting in and out of the river of chatting people and high-fives and flirting and teasing and hormones and…

He slammed open the metal doors and went stumbling out onto the front steps, darting a quick look around before practically flying down the stoop. Usually, if he made it to the street, they didn’t bother giving chase. If he made it all the way to the subway, he was home free—too many cops stuck around down there, checking random bags and giving buskers a hard time. He hit the little bit of yard running, tearing across the brown clumps of snow, backpack slapping between his shoulders as he gave it one last burst of speed.

“Hey, Billy!”

Billy turned his head, startled, nearly skidding out of control when his heel hit a patch of ice. He threw out his arms, hitting a girl on the shoulder, cursing and apologizing and pinwheeling crazily.

A warm, steady hand closed around his elbow and another pressed against the small of his back, righting him. Billy looked up, dazed, into Teddy’s wry expression.

“Sorry,” Teddy said, squeezing his elbow before letting go. He didn’t move his other hand right away, and Billy could feel it, burning like a brand through layers of fabric. “I wasn’t trying to send you flying headfirst into traffic. You okay?”

“What, yes, I mean. Hi.” He turned toward him as Teddy dropped his hand. Billy’s breath was coming quicker than normal thanks to his headfirst sprint. At least, that’s what he hoped _Teddy_ thought. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve got Art last period Tuesdays and Thursdays. Half the time, our teacher actually encourages us to skip out and go find someplace inspiring. I thought, hey, I’ll go be inspired by Central Park East High.” Teddy’s eyes cut toward Billy’s school. “Nice.”

Billy snorted. “Not nice enough to let me skip out an hour early—trade you.”

“Not on your life,” Teddy said with a laugh. “I wouldn’t make it a day in your school. I’ve seen the tv shows; I _know_ what happens to the poor, scrappy kids from Brooklyn. Oh, hey,” he added, “I’ve got something for you.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

Teddy glanced around quickly, almost _covertly_. “It’s in my bag,” he said, “but we should… Here.” He gently snagged Billy’s elbow again, sending warm waves crashing through his body, and pulled him back toward the stone fence surrounding the school’s lot. Billy instinctively pressed into the touch, trying not to be obvious about it and fighting the urge to blush as Teddy looked around again. “We shouldn’t let anyone see.”

Billy’s mouth quirked into a wry grin. “What, did you bring me porn or something?”

Teddy’s ears pinked. Billy stared.

“Oh my God,” he said, pitch rising. “Teddy! You did not bring me porn or something!”

“Or _something_,” Teddy hissed back, “shh! It’s… Oh for God’s sake, stop looking at me like that. I didn’t bring you…you know. But I figured you probably didn’t want to be seen with it, and I know _I_ didn’t, so, seriously, _stop looking at me like that_. Jeez, here.”

He ripped open his bookbag and tipped it forward to show Billy what was inside.

It was a book.

It was a book about Vikings?

No, it was a _romance novel_ about Vikings, and, “Oh my God, Viking Fabio!” Billy blurted before covering his mouth and quickly, guiltily looking around. Teddy dropped his head, flushing as people swiveled to look at them, but his shoulders were shaking and he was drawing in quiet, heaving gasps of breath, so it wasn’t a total wash. “That is so cool. Teddy, you have no idea how excited Jamie is going to get. He’ll probably try to, like, make out with the cover or something.”

“Well, it _is_ Fabio. I think he’s had worse things attached to his face,” Teddy teased, zipping the bag shut. “I’ll give it to you when we’re safely away from prying eyes or ears. Do you have to go home straightaway?”

“No,” Billy said quickly, thrilled. He’d figured he wouldn’t see Teddy until Saturday—getting him two days early was _great_. “What did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking we could—”

“Hey, KAPLAN! There you fucking are.”

Billy flinched instinctively, shoulders going up, head going down, as if he were a turtle. Only thing was, he didn’t have a shell to disappear into and Kesler was bearing down on him hard and fast, face twisted into a dark scowl.

_He’s pissed I’ve managed to evade him_, Billy thought, trying not to flinch, trying not to _die inside_ at the thought of Teddy witnessing this. At least Kesler didn’t have backup—that was the only positive Billy could see as the other boy tightened his fists and moved in to grab him.

Then went staggering back with a surprised _oomph_!

Billy stared at Kesler, then up at Teddy, who seemed even taller than he had a few seconds ago, even bigger. His golden hair shone in the sunlight and his jaw was clenched tight, no amusement or warmth in those incredible blue eyes.

“What the _fuck_,” Kesler growled, steadying himself. He glowered at Teddy, but Teddy—oh God, _Teddy_—didn’t back down. If anything, his jaw tightened more and his fists clenched, feet settling into an easy, ready stance. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Teddy Altman. And you’re going to be pissing out your teeth for the rest of the month if you take even one step closer.”

A crowd was slowly beginning to gather. Usually the other kids ducked their heads, looked the other way. The teachers were stretched too thin to be much use and Kesler was the unquestioned ruler of the school. You either took his side, got out of his way, or resigned yourself to being pummeled—that was how things _worked_.

Kesler clearly didn’t know how to respond to being challenged. He pulled himself up straight, blunt, big features drawing together as he looked Teddy up and down. Kesler was big—huge—but Teddy was big, too. What’s more, Teddy looked more than ready to put his fists behind his threat. His knuckles were bone-white and his muscles had gone tight.

“You don’t go here,” Kesler said slowly.

“Walk away,” Teddy said.

“You’re not going to be here every day, you know.”

“Walk. Away.”

Kesler glowered at Teddy, then flipped him off. “Fine. Jackhole. Go ahead and protect your stupid _boyfriend_, like I give a shit.” He turned, shoving his hands into his pockets, and stalked back toward the school, scattering the small crowd of students as they scurried to pretend they hadn’t witnessed him losing one hell of a dick-measuring contest.

Teddy stood there, silent, watching him go. He didn’t begin to relax until Kesler disappeared into the building, but even then his jaw ticked at the corner and his eyes were grim and flat. “Come on,” he said, grabbing both of their bookbags and dropping a hand to Billy’s shoulder. Billy didn’t need to be ushered off—he didn’t exactly want to stay put—but it felt nice to have Teddy touching him. No, scratch that, it felt _amazing_. His body was throwing off sparks so hard he could have sworn he heard the blood sizzling under his skin.

He had never, _never_, seen anything so hot in his entire life. The way Teddy had straightened, shoulders going back… The hard glint in his eyes… The low threat of violence, protectiveness, in his voice…

Billy bit the inside of his lip, painfully aware of how hard he was. His cock was pressed tight against the zip of his jeans and there was nothing in the world he wanted more than to drag the bags from Teddy’s hands, shove him against the rough bark of a tree, and lick his way into Teddy’s mouth. He could see it, painted on the backs of his lids every time he blinked: Teddy’s hands moving to his waist to drag him closer, Teddy’s lips parting as Billy’s tongue stroked deep inside, Teddy’s hair tangled around Billy’s fingers, his hips pushing up as one of Billy’s legs pressed between his muscled thighs. The way he’d arch once, tight, like he couldn’t help himself, then suddenly turn them, slamming Billy against the tree hard enough to shake free loose snow, breaking the kiss to mouth down his neck as he drove his erection frantically against…

_Oh my God_, Billy thought, snapping out of the all too realistic fantasy. _Oh my God, brain, stop it, stop it now_. He didn’t dare look at Teddy as they walked briskly down the sidewalk. Thankfully, Teddy seemed too pissed to notice much of anything, hand on his shoulder, gaze straight ahead, lips compressed around what Billy could almost swear was a snarl.

As they neared the subway entrance, however, Teddy began to slow. He dragged in a deep breath and Billy finally dared to cast him a quick glance. He still wanted all…_that_, desperately, but he thought maybe he could keep it off his face. “Um,” he said.

“Yeah,” Teddy said. He squeezed Billy’s shoulder, then let go. Almost as an afterthought, he handed Billy his bookbag.

“That was…”

“Yeah.”

“_Amazing_.”

Teddy cocked his head at him, brows arched a little, and the tension seemed to slowly drain out of his face, replaced by tired irony. “You think?”

“Um, _yes_. ‘_Walk away_.’ So, so badass. I’m pretty sure Luke Cage would have pissed himself.”

That earned a low almost-laugh. Teddy rubbed the back of his neck, wryly, and Billy loved how adorably sheepish he was—as if the fact that he’d made the school bully turn tail and run was something to be embarrassed about, as if he hadn’t just won at life in one fell swoop. If he went to Central Park East High, he’d be the new unquestioned king. “I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t go that far,” Teddy said.

“No, but seriously,” Billy countered, hugging his backpack to his front. “I should probably text and warn him to pick up some Depends.”

**

**212-555-3129:** _Im waiting outside whenever school gets out._  
**212-555-3129:** _Because it turns out I am stalking you._  
**212-555-3129:** _No nothing creepy or awkward about standing expectantly just outside a high school._  
**212-555-3129:** _Youre in class and cant text back huh?_  
**212-555-3129:** _If Ant-Man picks me up for loitering I promise Ill say hi for you._  
**212-555-3129:** _Angry Birds can bite my ass._  
**212-555-3129:** _God do you have the longest school day or what?_

**

Billy scanned his text messages—all eleven of them!—as he darted through the hallways. Which turned out to not be such a hot idea when he nearly knocked into one of the guys from the basketball team, but at least it was one of the _stoner_ guys from the basketball team, so he mostly just muttered and shoved Billy out of the way.

“Sorry!” Billy called back, tucking his phone safely into his pocket. It buzzed against his thigh, Teddy sending yet _another_ text, but he just grinned and hoisted his bag higher on his shoulder, running through the wide open doors.

He spotted Teddy almost at once, standing at the edge of the lot, slouched against a power line. He had a blue-and-gold striped scarf on today, earmuffs a clashing turquoise that somehow _worked_, thumbs moving quickly over the keys of his phone.

_Only Teddy_, Billy thought, jogging across the small lawn toward him. “Hey,” Billy said, laughing when his phone buzzed again. “You seriously almost got me detention, you jerk.”

Teddy looked up, wide grin spreading across his face. He didn’t look ashamed in the least. “I don’t believe it for a minute. Teachers probably eat out of your hand.”

“Um. Not so much.” Billy hopped over the low stone fence that separated the school from the sidewalk. “It turns out I have a ‘penchant for inappropriately sarcastic remarks’.”

Teddy’s eyes widened. “Mr. Kaplan. Are you trying to suggest you’ve got sass in your frass?”

“I dunno—it sounds loads more butch the way Mr. Rollins says it.”

“Is that why you have boy trouble?”

Billy’s heart nearly stopped at that, but then he noticed Teddy was looking—no, _glowering_—over his shoulder. Billy craned his neck, just catching sight of Kesler turning at the end of the block. Walking _away_ from them hurriedly. “…Oh. No, actually, that just sort of…happens to me,” he admitted, turning back around.

Kesler. Greg. It was like Billy had a target painted on his chest or something.

He caught the faint wince Teddy tried to hide, like he was thinking about Greg too. Billy bit the inside of his mouth, trying to think of something to say, when Sam pressed her mittened hands on the low wall and leaned between them.

“Hey!” she said brightly, blond hair swinging forward. “Sorry to interrupt, you guys, but Billy—don’t forget to bring your dad’s book tomorrow. Mr. Eppstein will flip a nut if we don’t have more citations or whatever.”

“Wh— Oh, yeah, yeah, okay,” Billy said. He noticed the quick, curious glance Sam shot Teddy and added, “This is Teddy. He, um, doesn’t go here.”

“Hi, Teddy.” Sam’s smile was warm, sunlight making her dusting of golden freckles stand out against her pale skin. “Nice to meet you.”

Teddy grinned back, just as warm, and Billy felt an uncomfortable lurch deep in his belly as he looked between them. Not so much jealousy as a sudden surge of intense panic. It seemed so obvious. This was the exact moment in any film where the hero and the heroine had their meet-cute and fell madly in love, and he couldn’t just stand here and watch that happen.

“Nice to meet you,” Teddy said. 

“Sorry, we’ve got to go,” Billy interrupted. “I’ll bring the book, promise. And I’ll say hi to Jamie for you,” he added, a little too forcefully. Both Teddy and Sam were looking at him in mild confusion, but Teddy went along willingly enough and Sam, to her credit, just waved at them and said, “All right, see you around,” before heading off in the other direction, bright red bookbag bouncing against her pretty blue coat.

Billy flushed and ducked his head, embarrassed but grimly determined. He was pretty sure Jamie would fling himself onto his Legend of Zelda replica sword if Sam started dating Teddy. And Billy was pretty sure he’d be only a few seconds behind him.

“So, was that Jamie’s Sam?” Teddy asked, falling into step beside him as if Billy hadn’t suddenly just lost his mind. “The one you told me about?”

“Hm? Oh. Yes.” He turned so he was walking backwards, eyes on Teddy’s face. “Jamie’s had a thing for Sam forever. They even got married once in fourth grade. We didn’t have a glass to break, so we used a Gatorade bottle instead.”

Teddy reached out to snag the front of Billy’s coat, maneuvering him around a woman and her dog.

Billy glanced over his shoulder to make sure there weren’t any more upcoming obstacles—there were, but hey, living on the edge—and refocused on Teddy. “So, you know. Don’t get any funny ideas?”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Teddy said, and there was something odd about his tone. About the _finality_ of it, Billy decided, like there was no chance that he would ever, _ever_ get any ideas about Sam.

Billy shot him a probing look, but Teddy just gripped his shoulders, laughter in his eyes, and carefully turned him back around. “Let’s try facing the right direction,” he said, squeezing. He dropped one hand into his pocket, casual, but the other stayed on Billy’s shoulder for a long moment, just resting there. Comfortable. Friendly.

Warm through layers and layers of cloth, and Billy desperately fought down a wild surge of hope, crushing it back before the idea could blossom into an impulsive question, into more than just an idle fantasy.

It didn’t mean anything. He was sure it didn’t mean anything.

**

**CaptnAmazing:** Why are you here, loser? Don’t you have a hot date?  
**Avngerfan2119:** For (what is probably not, consider it is YOU) the LAST TIME, Teddy and I aren’t dating! We’ve just been hanging out.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Come on, you’ve been hanging out for over a month. Almost two months if you count from when you guys first met. Are you trying to tell me he hasn’t _once_ tried to pull the something-something on you?  
**Avngerfan2119:** I hate you.  
**CaptnAmazing:** It’s Valentine’s Day! You should be out having fun and not talking to your loser best friend.  
**Avngerfan2119:** Did you call Sam?  
**CaptnAmazing:** Did you not catch the _loser_ part?  
**Avngerfan2119:** God, you’re such a  
**Avngerfan2119:** brb, phone

Billy turned away from his laptop and grabbed his cellphone. His heart gave a funny, happy lurch when he checked the faceplate and saw Teddy’s name.

Teddy had called him. On _Valentine’s Day_. He was…not going to let himself read anything into that.

“Hey,” Billy said, drawing up one foot to rest on the edge of his chair, chin on his knee. “What’s up?”

He could hear music blaring from Teddy’s end, a pounding beat and lots of voices. “Hey, happy Valentine’s Day,” Teddy said—shouted, really.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He blushed a little even as he said the words, though that was stupid. It wasn’t as if it meant anything, and besides, Teddy had said it first. “Where are you? I swear, I’m going deaf just listening through the phone.”

“Some stupid club. Hold on a sec.”

The sound got a little muffled, as if Teddy were pressing the phone to his chest. There was a low rustling, then the music began to die away somewhat, replaced by the sound of city traffic. “Okay, can you hear me now?”

“I’m getting Sprint flashbacks. Yeah, I can hear you,” he added quickly. “Um, out having a good time?” _On a date_?

“Not particularly. For all the clubs I get dragged to, I’m not really a crushing wall of strangers kind of guy.”

“You know,” Billy mused, turning to look at his laptop. The IM window was flashing, Jamie amusing himself by typing random observations and linking Billy to obnoxious sites while he waited. “Every time I look at you, I think, now there’s a guy who can really appreciate a crushing wall of strangers. Are you sure you’ve put enough thought into this?”

Teddy laughed. “Well, I haven’t pondered the question at length, it’s true. How about next time I drag you along and you can observe me—see if I’m in my element?”

“Oh, no, no, I know how this goes.” The window flashed again.

**CaptnAmazing:** Who are you talking to?

“I get dragged to some fancy club and wait in line for hours, then once I get to the door the bouncer looks at me and laughs and, like, balls me up and punts me across the street where I’ll end up at some coffee shop listening to soulful guitarists with wispy beards.”

**CaptnAmazing:** Is it Teddy?

“I’m don’t see how soulful guitarists with wispy beards isn’t an upgrade from strobe lights and grabby hands.”

**CaptnAmazing:** It _is_ Teddy, isn’t it?

Billy smirked and typed as quietly as possible. “_Really_ soulful. _A Night Without Armor_ soulful.” **Avngerfan2119:** SHUT UP, TALKING NOW. “And hey, wait,” he added, straightening. “Grabby hands? Are people, um…”

_Shut up, shut up_, he had to tell himself. Like it _mattered_ if people were being grabby with Teddy.

**CaptnAmazing:** Tell him you love him and want to have a million of his babies.

“I’m pretty sure one of them was older than my mom,” Teddy admitted, sotto voice. “Okay, laugh now, but when I bring you to one of these places, I plan to use you as a human shield.”

**CaptnAmazing:** Tell him you want to lay in his arms in dreamy surrender.

Billy X’d out of the IM, but it popped up again with a new message a few seconds later. **CaptnAmazing:** Tell him damn, you wish you were his lover. You’d rock him ‘til the daylight comes, make sure he is smiling and warm.

**Avngerfan2119:** All right, Sophie B. Hawkins.

“Billy?”

“Sorry, I’m here. I’m here,” he said, climbing out of his desk chair and going to sprawl onto the bed. He loved being in bed when he talked to Teddy. He’d never—never—admit it, but he liked laying there, cheek pressed against his pillow, Teddy’s voice low and a little husky in his ear. It always made something warm and shivery uncurl low in his belly. Some awareness, spooling up from inside of him, making him press his knees together and squirm.

Teddy would probably be horrified if he knew. Or at least horribly embarrassed. But Billy just… He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help thinking about him like that sometimes.

Okay, more than sometimes.

“Are you there with a, um, date?”

“What? Oh. No, no date. I just came with…some of my friends.” Teddy stumbled over that a little, and Billy could read into the gap. He’d gone with Greg. “They’re a lot more into the scene than I am.”

Billy blinked up at his ceiling, fingers tightening around the phone. “You should get some new friends,” he said quietly, unable to help it. He almost expected Teddy to be mad, but Teddy just said, voice low, “I’ve got you, don’t I?”

**

**212-555-9078:** Billy, did you hear? Cap was spotted going to a Kappa Sig party!  
**212-555-8743:** Wait, what?  
**212-555-9078:** _Seriously_.  
**212-555-8743:** Come on, Jamie, no way. Unless there was—was there some kind of attack?  
**212-555-9078:** No! He just, like, went to unwind with the frats. He _played beer pong_.  
**212-555-8743:** I don’t believe it.  
**212-555-9078:** Check TMZ. Some of the guys snapped pictures of him with their camera phones. Are you checking? I can hear typing—are you seeing this?  
**212-555-8743:** …oh my God.  
**212-555-9078:** I know, right? Maybe he’s possessed or something. That happens. He could be possessed or something, right?

**

Billy resisted the urge to check the time, huddling deeper into his coat. It hadn’t snowed for a few days, but the late-February winds were sharp as knives. He thought about going inside again, but he’d felt like such a tool loitering there, waiting on Teddy. Besides, Teddy would be arriving any minute, he was sure of it.

A few minutes later, he gave in and checked the time, making a face. He was pretty sure he was veering into hopelessly pathetic territory by this point, but…

He sent another quick text, then wrapped his arms around his middle, shivering. His toes were starting to go numb. His ass had long since frozen. He was pretty sure he should just give up and go home—he wasn’t far. He could walk from here. But. But…

Billy dropped his forehead against his knees and breathed slow and deep, arms wrapped over his head to trap the heat around his face. _Go inside, at least_, he told himself fiercely, not moving. _Stop being such an idiot; come on, no one cares if you’re waiting inside. They’re not thinking, oh, hey, look, that stupid, scrawny kid has been stood up by his_—

Teddy dropped down onto the steps next to him, breathless. Billy could _tell_ it was him even before he lifted his head.

“I’m…so…sorry,” Teddy gasped. His face was flushed and he had bits of snow in his hair, probably drifted down from some tree. “I ran…all the way…from… Gah, sorry.” He tipped back against the steps, hands folded over his stomach, and dragged in unsteady breaths as he stared up at the sky.

Billy turned onto one hip and leaned back with him. “It’s okay,” he said, immediately forgiving. “I wasn’t waiting too long.”

Teddy turned his head and gave him a _look_.

“Okay,” Billy amended, “I’ve been waiting awhile. But in the grand scheme of things, not too bad. I mean, not Godot-level.”

Teddy nudged Billy’s knee with his own, rolling his eyes. His breath was slowly beginning to normalize, red fading from his cheeks. Billy reached out on some crazy impulse and brushed the snow from Teddy’s shoulders and hair. It was the first time he’d touched Teddy like this, and he wished, he _wished_, he could take his time to really enjoy it.

He dropped his hand.

“Am I presentable enough to be seen with?” Teddy joked, brows quirking, looking model-gorgeous, as always, in his black wool coat and houndstooth scarf.

Billy fought a flush. “Oh, you know, I guess I’ll condescend. Um, so…”

“Right, museum.” Teddy straightened, hands on his knees, and stood, shaking himself out. He turned to offer Billy a hand up. “Can I get the tickets?”

Billy stood then rubbed his gloved hands against his thighs, feeling the pinpricks of heat dotting his skin. “Beat you to it. You can grab the next set in our daring tour.” They’d decided on a whim to try to hit all of the city’s museums, which had sounded like a _great_ idea during a 1 a.m. IM conversation but which was already turning out to be a little overwhelming. He’d never even thought about how many museums there were in Manhattan, let alone Manhattan and its boroughs.

“Sure,” Teddy joked, “two tickets to the Museum of Sex coming right, uh, unfortunate word choice, abort, abort.”

Billy ducked his face into the high collar of his coat, desperately pretending he wasn’t embarrassed or, God, intrigued or anything. He’d walked by the Museum of Sex plenty of times but had never, well, _looked_. It was like those stores in the Village with the rainbow stickers over the doors. He _wanted_ to look, wanted to go inside, wanted to be a part of those glimpses of culture he caught out of the corners of his eyes, but he couldn’t imagine ever working up the courage to actually do it.

_Maybe someday, with Teddy_, Billy thought, heading into the Natural History Museum and handing Teddy his ticket. Teddy was fearless about those sorts of things. Teddy was… He was just so…

They shucked off their coats and left them to be checked. “Should I grab a map?” Teddy asked, but Billy just snagged the cuff of his sweater—white and cable-knit, sleeves again way too long—and tugged him toward the big marble doorway. “No way,” Billy said. “My school is practically right on the other side of the park. You would not _believe_ how many times I’ve been here as a field trip. Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

“Hey, VIP treatment. I can get behind that.”

So it turned out Teddy was really into dinosaurs, which only showed good taste, but that giant hanging whale replicas freaked him out. “Okay, no, that is just _wrong_,” Teddy said, shying back toward the corner of the huge room. He kept his eyes on the massive statue as if he expected it to come alive and swallow him any second. “Those things belong in the sea very, very far away from me.”

“Come on,” Billy protested, following along, secretly gleeful that there was something that actually got under Teddy’s skin. It wasn’t that he thought Teddy was perfect or anything—he _knew_ better—but it helped to know he had the occasional weird neuroses that plagued Billy and, oh, every other person in the entire world. “It’s just a statue. It can’t hurt you.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s plotting ways to eat me right now.”

“Krill, Teddy! It eats krill.”

Teddy didn’t take his eyes from where the huge thing hovered near the ceiling. “It’s pretty dark in here—it probably couldn’t tell the difference, and, holy fuck!”

Teddy jumped back, nearly knocking Billy over, instinctively grabbing him to keep Billy from toppling—which, _guh_—and shooting an angry-looking woman and her staring children a sheepish look. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry, sorry, it just, wow. Um. So that’s not creepy or anything.”

_That_ turned out to be an exhibit of a squid and a whale fighting. The whale’s huge mouth was open, squid wrapped around its head, around its _mouth_, suckers glowing white against a deep red body. The rest of the exhibit was pitch black.

“I never realized you had such a thing against whales,” Billy said. Teddy was slowly moving behind him, hands on his shoulders, forming a human shield.

“I’m all for freeing Willy, man, but come on—that’s _terrifying_. Where’s the glass? It’s like you could fall right in there.”

Billy snorted, but… Okay, he guessed Teddy sort of had a point. The exhibit was tucked back along the far left-hand side of the hall, cast in deep shadows. There was no light in there, nothing except the brightness of the squid’s body, the gleam of the whale’s tiny eye, the _teeth_ practically glowing in the gloom. All the other exhibits had glass up to keep people out, but this one was bare, open, _hollow_, slanting back just enough that Billy almost felt as if he were being pulled in there. He could almost feel the cold of the ocean, could feel the pressure, could hear the _whoosh_ of the heavy tail as the two monsters thrashed, dwarfing him, making him feel small and insignificant and fragile and…

Billy quickly led Teddy out of the hall.

It turned out Teddy’s weird thing against taxidermy extended from whales to _all_ animals, though he seemed more suspicious of the bison than nervous. The funny thing was, he was sort of making Billy nervous, too, but in an enjoyable way, like how ghost stories sent shivers up your spine. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder in front of a bright exhibit on African gazelle—which had looked _totally normal_ to Billy the last six dozen times he’d been dragged to the museum over his lifetime—Teddy leaned in and murmured, “It kind of looks like they’re creeping closer,” into the shell of Billy’s ear, voice warm and gusting, and Billy had to grip the railing _tighttighttight_, knuckles going white in the darkness. “Don't blink,” Teddy whispered. “Blink and you're dead. They are fast. Faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back. Don't look away. And don't blink.”

Billy stared down the gazelle, hitting Teddy’s chest with the back of his hand. “I can’t believe you’re Doctor Who’ing me right now, you giant nerd.”

The exhibit on bioluminescence was really cool, and the minerals and gemstones were always neat to look at, but nothing beat settling down into the huge planetarium chairs and laying back in the darkness, watching the stars pass overhead. It was a slow day for the museum, or maybe they just lucked out in their timing, because most of the seats were empty. If he tilted his head just right, it was almost like he and Teddy were alone here, under the stars, watching the universe expand around them. They showed the Earth from far away, then zeroed in on the homeworlds of the various aliens they’d come in contact with over the years: Shi’ar and Kree and Skrull, planets looking so peaceful, somehow, from such a long way away.

Teddy sighed quietly as the Kree homeworld spun by, filling up the dome with color and light, and Billy fought the impulse to reach out and take his hand, remembering the Aurora painted on his walls, remembering the stars over his bed. He wondered if this was what Teddy imagined every night as he went to sleep: starfields and the vast openness of space.

When the lights came back on, they stumbled with the rest of the small crowd down the long, winding ramp toward the final exhibits. These had always been Billy’s favorites—the pictures of Captain Marvel, the spaceships, the images of the Avengers and double helixes and Professor Charles Xavier on the video screen, lecturing about mutations. There were rocks from the Skrull homeword and a simulation showing what it would be like to actually _be inside_ Iron Man’s suit. Billy leaned over and grasped the hilt of Thor’s hammer, even though he knew it was carved as part of the rock it was supposedly stuck into, even though he’d known it since he was a kid, and gave a hard tug. He jerked his hand away at the jolt of static electricity and sucked on his fingers, glaring at the exhibit. That was new, and it definitely _sucked_.

“Do you ever imagine what it would be like to be a superhero?” Billy asked. When Teddy didn’t answer, he glanced over. “Teddy?”

Teddy was looking up at an old picture of the Avengers, taken ages ago, back before anyone had realized that there was so much more to the universe than they had dreamed of. There was something quiet and sad in his expression—guilty, almost, as if the weight of the world was pressing against his broad, capable shoulders. Billy drifted closer, reaching out to touch his wrist, wishing he had the guts to take his hand. And then Teddy was turning his hand and linking them together briefly, for just a moment, squeezing his fingers and staring at the memories on the whitewashed wall.

Then, without needing to say anything, they separated and turned away, heading for the exit.

It had gotten dark while they were inside the museum, and snow was falling again. Billy struggled into his coat, standing at the top of the steps while Teddy paused midway down. He’d looped the houndstooth scarf around his neck just once, the ends trailing almost to his knees, his beautiful face tipped up toward the moon. The sadness was still there, a cloak around his shoulders, and flakes of snow were catching in his long lashes.

But he looked down when Billy came to stand next to him, smiling a little, warm. Always so warm. “Can I walk you home?”

_Yes_. “It’s okay. I don’t live very far from here.”

“Can I do it anyway?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

They fell in step together, quiet. Central Park was dark and alive around them, joggers heading down worn paths for their evening run, teenagers laughing and pretending they were going to push each other into the partially frozen duck pond. The snow came down in increasingly heavy flakes, muffling the tred of their heels. It reminded Billy, weirdly, of New Year’s Eve—standing quietly with Teddy in the snow, waiting as the seconds ticked by to midnight. Only he’d barely known that Teddy, not the way he was getting to know—already knew—this one. It was…it was a world of difference. It was like two different lives. He wondered if, in another few months, a year, they’d be walking together and he’d know so much more that the present day him, the today-him, would feel like a ghost.

They reached his block quicker than he would have liked, Billy nudging Teddy’s shoulder to turn them down his street. He could tell Teddy was a little impressed and maybe a little overwhelmed by the stately houses and obvious money. Billy never thought of himself as particularly well-off until he looked around with the eyes of someone else. Honestly, until lately, when he’d begun to look around with Teddy’s eyes.

“This is me,” he said, coming to a stop at the foot of his steps. Teddy turned to face him, glancing once, a little wryly, at the brownstone before focusing on him. Billy couldn’t help but compare their places: the ugly salmon brick and peeling paint of Teddy’s big apartment block and his own neat little brownstone, nestled on a nice block on the Upper East Side. He edged in a little closer, hoping it didn’t matter to Teddy, knowing it didn’t matter to him. “I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too. MoMA next?”

“Only if you promise to narrate in your Elmer Fudd voice again.”

“That was _once_, Billy, Jeez.”

He laughed, reaching out to tug the ends of Teddy’s scarf. “I’ll call you,” he promised, hesitating a moment before stepping away, moving up two of the steps. “IM me when you get home, okay?”

Teddy began to walk backwards toward the avenue, toward the subway station, wry grin spreading across his face. “Fine, sure. You know, you’re going to be a great mother someday.”

“Jackass!” Billy called after him happily, and Teddy waved, laughing, and turned around. Billy watched as he fished out his iPod, slipping in the earbuds, figure getting smaller and smaller. He kept watching until Teddy crossed the street and disappeared from sight. Only then did he turn, head ducked down, grinning to himself so hard it _hurt_ as he vaulted up the steps.

The sharp _taptaptap_ stopped him, hand on the doorknob. Billy turned his head and groaned. Andy and David were pressed against the dining room window, his little brothers’ faces smeared across the glass as they pretended to make out with it, tongues dragging horrible and lewd and disgusting. Billy bent to grab a handful of snow, lobbing it at the windowpane, and they disappeared, laughing, pounding footsteps audible even through the thick front door as they raced to try to lock him out.

He shoved the door open grimly before they could make it, determined to murder them in the name of long-suffering older brothers everywhere.

**

**Altmanticore:** I made it home safe and sound, Mom.  
_8:23 pm: Avngerfan2119 is away. _  
_8:24 pm: Avngerfan2119 is back. _  
**Avngerfan2119:** Did you brush your teeth? Do your homework? Say your prayers?  
**Altmanticore:** No, but I’m pretty sure I saw someone masturbating on the R train.  
**Avngerfan2119:** What? Gross! Seriously?  
**Altmanticore:** Yeah. So, that happened.  
**Avngerfan2119:** What did you do?  
**Altmanticore:** I looked away and pretended I didn’t see anything?  
**Avngerfan2119:** Teddy! You should have said something, or, or made him stop or something.  
**Altmanticore:** I don’t know! It seemed rude to interrupt.  
**Avngerfan2119:** You are— I don’t even believe you exist sometimes.

**

They took turns choosing museums to visit all through the next month, which turned out to be a bad idea when they began trying to one-up each other.

Billy: Judaica Museum of the Hebrew Home for the Aged at Riverdale

Teddy: New York Tattoo Museum

“Oh my God, you’re like walking stereotype sometimes, did you know that? Fine, my turn. How about…”

Billy: New York Transit Museum

“Wow. I didn’t know they made old men your age.”

“Are we going to the Artistically Tousled Hair and Piercings Museums now?”

Teddy: Girl Scout Museum

“…I _hate_ you. I am going to destroy you.”

“Bring it.”

Billy: New York Aquarium

“That’s just _mean_.”

“Gosh, too bad there aren’t any whales. Hey, look at those really scary-looking sharks!”

Teddy: The Museum of Sex

“You really did ask for it,” Teddy said smugly, handing Billy his ticket. It was pink and said Museum of SEX in giant, bold, happy letters, as if it wanted everyone to know where they were going. And Teddy had given it to him in the middle of _Union Square_, where there were tons of people to see, and Clarence was packing up his chess board and huffing an amused breath and _Oh God_.

“This…really is like fighting a trashcan fire with the whole ocean,” Billy said, quickly tucking away the ticket.

Teddy just grinned at him sunnily. “Or maybe a whole aquarium? Let me help you with that, sir,” he added, moving to lend Clarence a hand. The old man waved him off, tucking the bag under his arm and glowering. “I’m old, not feeble, Blondie,” he snapped, shuffling past Billy. “You two go on your little museum tour. I’ve got Goddamned better things to do.” 

He winked at Billy as he passed, though, like he thought… Like he was _reading something into_ all this, and Billy was torn between wanting to die on the spot and wishing with all his heart that it was true.

Teddy wound his scarf around his neck—rainbow-striped, with long tassels today; apparently Teddy’s mother picked up random little things for him whenever she felt guilty about spending so much time out of the house working—and grabbed the three empty hot chocolates, tossing them into the nearest trash. Billy trotted to catch up, and they fell into step together, heading up the avenue toward 23rd. “It won’t be so bad,” Teddy promised. “The new exhibit is on powers, according to the webpage. That’s got to be pretty cool.”

“Have you ever been?” He shoved his hands into his pockets, jittery. Jamie would _freak out_ when he found out where Billy had gone. His best friend had always wanted to go but had never convinced his parents that it was educational. Or, at least, the right kind of educational.

“No, but I poked around on the webpage a little last night, and I saw some of the posters when I dropped by earlier to get the tickets.”

Billy flushed, thinking about the kinds of things that would be on those posters, on the webpage, oh hell. “Um, okay, well. I can’t believe they let you get tickets. Do you have to be 18 or something?”

“I have an old soul.”

Billy cast him a side eye. “Says the guy who thought the Girl Scout Museum was kind of cool.”

“It’s interesting learning the history!” Teddy protested, and they went back and forth playfully for awhile, passing the ABC home store and Fishes Eddy. The Flatiron with its weird cheese wedge shape grew bigger and bigger as they came closer and closer until they’d reached Madison Square Park and had to hush, on the lookout for the He-Man.

“Dang it, we’re _never_ going to spot him,” Billy muttered when a careful scour of the little park didn’t reveal the unusual New York pseudo-celebrity. “Maybe he’s started going to another gym.”

“Maybe he really is He-Man and we’re spotting his Prince Adam disguise,” Teddy offered, not at all helpful, before laughing at Billy’s face and agreeing, “Or he’s going to a new gym. Or our timing just sucks. After you,” he added, holding the door open for Billy, and Billy nearly stumbled because _holy crap_ he hadn’t been paying attention and they were here. He looked back at Teddy accusingly, but Teddy just grinned and slid a hand into Billy’s pocket (which, oh wow, _oh wow_) and pulled out his ticket. He handed both tickets over to the girl, his back to Billy, and if he seemed a little taller than usual, that was probably just because Billy was hunched as low as he could manage, trying to forcibly sink into the floor.

There was a sign, white on black, hard to miss: **Please do not touch, lick, stroke or mount the exhibits.**

“I’m pretty sure I’m not old enough to be here,” Billy said, though mostly under his breath, hyperaware of all the other people heading into the main exhibit hall ahead and behind them. Most of them were a little older—20s, early 30s. Only a handful were as red as he felt as they walked through the main doors and, oh, okay, he didn’t know what he was expecting, but he _really_ wasn’t expecting a costumed figure floating in the center of the main exhibit hall, a naked girl’s legs wrapped around his waist, his, oh wow, in her, um, okay.

Billy averted his eyes, only to see another exhibit to his left—drawings, this time, of someone with streams of fire dancing from his fingertips, flames licking along the bare chest of a gasping man. His head was thrown back, half in shadow, the only color in the piece the brilliant hearts of the flames. Under it was a plaque: _Pyrophilia_, followed by a description of various fire powers that had manifested over the years. There was even a little plexiglass display with one of Pyro’s romance novels, which seemed like such a nice touch, and next to it a black and white picture of a man whose g-string was _on fire_.

“There’s a whole corner dedicated to _Beast_iality,” Teddy said in a hushed voice, and Billy looked over without really meaning to, seeing the full, life-sized statue with its luxuriant fur, _huge bare blue-black cock_ thrusting out of the pelt.

He gasped in a choking laugh and turned away, covering his eyes. He wasn’t even sure if it was Beast or Nightcrawler or a badly researched Sasquatch, or maybe even some made-up version based around all three, but the image was squarely in his head now and he was trembling with the church giggles.

“Oh, oh fuck, oh. Teddy. Teddy, _I blame you_,” he gasped.

“I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to…to grab hold of it. I’m pretty sure it’s a _petting_ exhibit.” Teddy’s voice was so strangled that Billy wheezed in a breath, choking on his attempts to stifle laughter.

They wandered through the rest of the hall, looking at the exhibits whenever they dared, shooting the occasional horrified/intrigued glance at each other. It turned out there was a whole underground kink community devoted to superhero roleplay. There were companies who sold costumes, some of them pretty amazingly accurate, to people who wanted to pretend to be Captain America and Iron Man coming down after a hard day of battle and, um, coming. You could even design your own, Billy discovered, reading the scrolling text with mounting horror and curiosity. There was a part of him—a small but definite part—that was sorely tempted to order something like that. Not for sex, though he was pretty sure he was going to be having incredibly disturbing and vivid dreams about the Hulk _Hulking Out_ while fucking him now, but because they just…looked so realistic. Not like the costumes he and Jamie cobbled together out of sheets and old pajamas when they were kids, or even like the ones you could buy at Costume City around Halloween, but for _real_.

Teddy moved behind him, leaning over his shoulder and jabbing the interactive touchscreen. “Oh, hey, you can design your own!” he said delightedly, already playing around, and Billy gave a long, internal sigh, because of course his completely unachievable crush would dork out over that too. _Of course_. “Fear the power of the mighty Mysterion!” Teddy pushed a button, adding a black cowl.

There were other hands-on exhibits—one for ice powers, which was actually kind of cool and made him consider Iceman in a completely new light—and one about shapeshifters. Teddy got kind of squirrely around that one, especially the part about how many shapeshifters ultimately identified as genderqueer, but Billy couldn’t think of a way to casually bring it up to dig for more information, and besides, they were already heading up the stairs to the permanent exhibits.

They split up there, each slowly moving through the dark room with its many, many video screens showing, well, porn. Or erotic movies. Or just sexy movie clips. Billy read the plaques diligently, only watching the screens out of the corner of his eye. This room wasn’t as weird as the hall downstairs—it was almost academic, seeing these old clips, reading about where they were from and what they meant for the evolution of the industry and stuff. Even when he came across (and quickly slid past) gay ones, it wasn’t particularly hot. It felt too removed to mean anything for him, and it was also kind of weird, since he was out in the open where people could see, and just… Yeah.

There were little semi-private copses along both walls, with chairs and slightly longer videos. Teddy was at the far end of the room, watching an animated clip about robots having sex with an increasingly horrified expression. Billy glanced in briefly, curious—one of them sort of looked like Iron Man—but he fled almost immediately when the headless armless legless robot fucking machines started, um, and, just, _no_.

He slipped into an empty alcove and took a seat, palms pressed against his hot cheeks, stifling laughter. He really, really didn’t want to know whether Iron Man had signed off on that, but then, he sort of kind of _did_ want to know, and oh God, what did Captain America think of all this? Did any of them even know?

The blue light flickered, film restarting, and Billy glanced up, only half-watching as he pondered what a ribbon-cutting for these kinds of things would be like.

On the screen there was a young man, probably nineteen, maybe twenty, sprawled under a tree near a lake. He was fully dressed in some kind of school uniform, hands behind his head, face tilted up toward the sky. The shadow of leaves played over his features and the long, bare line of his neck.

A black title card appeared, framed in white, with a single word printed in the center: _**Splash!**_

It cut back to the boy. He turned his head, surprised, then sat up quickly. The camera panned across the field to the lake, where another boy was climbing out of the water. His brown hair clung wetly to his scalp, rivulets of water running across his broad shoulders and impressively muscular chest, down the tight line of his stomach to…

Billy bit his lip.

…to his cock, his naked cock, soft but still big. Billy had looked at pictures of naked guys before—he was a teenager and he had access to the internet; of course he’d looked at pictures of naked guys before—but there was something different about this. The beefcake guys in the porn he occasionally snuck glances at were ultra-aware of the camera, posing for it, showing off. This was almost like the audience, like Billy, was hiding behind a tree spying on a real-life scene he’d happened upon. The brown-haired boy moved toward the blond in the school uniform with a quiet sort of swagger, cock twitching, _hardening_ just a little, so very slowly.

Billy pressed his knees together, nails digging into his palms as the blond moved to his knees, opening his mouth in silent shock.

Title Card: _**Who are you? What do you want?**_

The dark-haired boy dropped to his knees, gently catching the other boy’s wrists in his big, strong-looking hands, pulling them between their bodies. His eyes moved to the blond’s lips, then up again, as he slowly, _slowly_, drew the boy’s captured hands down, down, down between his wet thighs.

Billy breathed, “Oh,” just as the title card flashed _**Oh!**_ He was so wrapped up in the film that he didn’t even feel the displacement of air, hear the rustle of clothing, as someone took the seat next to him.

The blond swayed, eyes going heavy-lidded, hands curving around the other boy’s fully erect cock. He wet his lips and finally, _finally_ leaned in, allowing his mouth to be captured for a slow, deep, achingly hot kiss.

Billy kept expecting the camera to cut away, but it lingered there, close on their shoulders and faces as the blond licked deep into the dark-haired boy’s mouth, tongue stroking over his full bottom lip, across the sharp jut of his canines, along his tongue. They twined together, slick and _hot_ and slow, unseen hands moving, making their bodies sway together as the brunette nipped at the other boy’s tongue, then wrapped his lips around it and sucked the sting away. The blond fell back, pulling the brunette with him, until he was pressed against the rough bark of the tree, tongue thrusting past full lips, body moving as if…as if… 

Billy’s breaths were coming quick and a little shallow, eyes locked hungrily on the screen as they moved together. Their tongues twined, tangling once out in the open, and he could almost hear the sound it would make, the liquid glide of spit and need. The brunette was pushing the blond harder and harder against the tree, rocking their hips together in a steady rhythm that was broken now and then when their lips parted and they dragged in twin breaths.

It was so…_hot_, and beautiful, and effortless. A moment he’d stumbled across like some lucky voyeur, witnessing something he had no right to see and yet couldn’t look away from. There was color staining the blond boy’s cheeks, spilling down his neck and the little bit of flesh visible at his collarbone. Billy was sure it went all the way down, spreading over this thin chest. His flat belly would be trembling, hips delicate and arching, cock thick and flushed. Billy arched up against the rough zip of his pants, fighting the urge to slide a hand between his thighs, shifting restlessly as their hands—out of sight, but clearly, clearly moving—jerked off the dark-haired boy in tandem.

And then, slowly, the two of them sank out of frame.

The screen went dark, then flickered blue, numbers counting down to the next showing.

Billy let out an unsteady breath. His hands were shaking. His entire body was trembling. He squeezed his knees together, shocked and flushed and weirdly, intensely _jealous_ of that blond-haired boy. He wanted that, wanted it for himself, wanted it with _Teddy_. He would have killed for Teddy to look at him like that, heat and need clear in his eyes, wordless appreciation making his heart pound. Billy shifted in his seat, heat pooled low and insistent in his belly, disappointment a bitter taste in the back of his throat, and turned to glance out of the alcove toward the main room.

He jerked back with a low noise when he met Teddy’s gaze, so close to his own, unexpected. Teddy was looking at him with hugely dilated blue eyes, hair falling into his face, lips parted. His hands were gripping his knees and his shoulders were tight. He looked ready to bolt any second.

Billy wet his lips nervously, and the blue light faded to black and white as the scene restarted: blond boy laying sprawled back beneath a tree, arms behind his head, the shadow of leaves moving across his face.

Teddy’s eyes dropped to Billy’s mouth.

It was like being punched in the gut, years of aching, lonely frustration blossoming out in the aftermath of pain. _I think he wants to kiss me_, Billy thought dizzily, struggling to breathe. _Oh God, please, let him kiss me_.

He tipped forward a little in silent welcome, wanting it more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. Sweet, gorgeous, talented, amazing Teddy, who got him in ways he wasn’t always sure he got himself, who fit into his life as if they’d been made for each other. He could withstand all the bullying and all the taunting and all the crap the world could throw at him if he could only have _this_.

Teddy leaned toward him, just a little, swaying in his seat. And then, suddenly, Teddy was vaulting to his feet and practically racing from the room, leaving Billy alone, bathed in the flickering light of a hundred screens.

By the time Billy controlled the wild urge to cry and headed into the final permanent exhibit, Teddy seemed more like himself. He lifted his chin in silent greeting and Billy tried to smile back before turning to stare blankly at some machine he didn’t even bother trying to figure out the purpose for. He moved dully through the room, building a sense of normalcy around him like a cloak until he could finally fall into step with Teddy on their way out.

“So,” Teddy said once they hit the cold New York streets. “That was the Museum of Sex.”

“That was the Museum of Sex,” Billy echoed. He fumbled for something else to say. “Um, I’m pretty sure Dr. McCoy should sue.”

Teddy glanced at him, then away, quickly, as if embarrassed. “Really?” he said, tone almost too light. “Because I was thinking he should send them a thank you card. I’m betting he gets a lot more attention on the street now.”

“Um, by people asking if they can _pet him_, so probably not a bonus!”

“I don’t know. I guess it depends on what they want to pet,” and somehow things felt almost normal again. _Almost_. But that night, curled around his pillow, hand working hard and desperate between his thighs, Billy imagined himself lying beneath a tree, sunlight dappling his features. Teddy rose from the water and captured his hands, dragging them low to wrap around his cock, keeping them there, trapped, as he licked into his mouth and pressed him back against the rough bark of the tree and _oh God_.

**

**Avngerfan2119:** Hey.  
_4:12 pm: Altmanticore is away. _  
_4:46 pm: Altmanticore is back. _  
**Altmanticore:** Hey, sorry. I was just putting away groceries.  
**Avngerfan2119:** No problem. So what’s up? How are you?  
**Altmanticore:** I’m okay. Good. Sorry I haven’t been able to hang out for the last few days. Things have been pretty, you know.  
**Avngerfan2119:** Oh, yeah, no, totally.  
**Altmanticore:** I’m free right now, though.  
**Altmanticore:** If you wanted to come over.  
**Altmanticore:** Not to drag you kicking and screaming into Brooklyn or anything.  
**Avngerfan2119:** No, that sounds great. Only minimal screaming. I’m getting my coat—one hour.  
**Altmanticore:** Okay, see you.  
_4:54 pm: Avngerfan2119 is away. _

**

Billy managed to make it all the way to the subway station without thinking, deliberately filling his mind with useless observations. It was starting to warm up a little—maybe soon they’d see the last of the snow. The weird house on the corner still had their Christmas stuff up. Huh, it looked like they were filming something at Dylan’s Candy Bar. Did anyone ever really go into Ciangino’s or was it actually a front for the mafia, like Jamie kept insisting? And on and on as he hurried down the slick steps, deathgrip on the rail, _not_ thinking, not thinking at all, and definitely not thinking about Teddy.

_Teddy._

_…crap._

All at once, predictably, that was all he could think about. That was all he’d been thinking about for _days_. Teddy’s quick grin, his big hands, his broad shoulders. The flicker of blue light on his face. The tension in his body, knuckles going white as he gripped his knees. The heat in his eyes, dilated, fixed on Billy, pinning him in place and making him ache with slowly unfurling hope.

_God_, Billy thought, rubbing his face. _Stop it_. He slid into a seat on the R and rested his head against the glass, watching ghostly lights flash through the dark tunnel—red and green and gold, speeding by as he tried not to think about kissing Teddy, couldn’t think of anything _but_ kissing Teddy.

He almost missed Teddy’s stop over an hour later. Billy jerked up and hurried off the train just as the doors were closing, feeling flushed and semi-aroused and awkward and annoyed with himself. He shoved his hands into his pockets and tucked his face into his coat as he turned at the cross-street. Someone was leaving the ugly salmon-colored building just as Billy arrived—she held the door open for him with a brief, friendlyish smile, silver hoops swinging in her ears.

“Thanks,” Billy mumbled, darting inside. He felt himself tightening up, more and more anxious with each step, until he was standing outside Teddy’s apartment staring blankly at the door and trying to remember to breathe.

He cleared his throat before knocking, then quickly checked his breath against his palm. Stupid, he knew, and pointless, but… Well, he could live in hope. He could hear the sound of the television drifting from inside, then footsteps. The door swung open.

An attractive, older blond woman stood there, brows lifting faintly in question. She was tall and slender with long, wavy hair and green-blue eyes. Dressed in a simple white wrap-front shirt and jeans, turquoise beads at her neck and silver bangles at her wrist, she was so unexpectedly striking that Billy lost his words for a moment.

“Can I help you?” Mrs. Altman asked, smiling a little, encouraging.

Billy swallowed. “Um, hi. Is Teddy home?”

She blinked in visible surprise, then suddenly _beamed_ at him, entire face lighting up. “Are you Greg?” she asked, delighted. “I have heard so much about you.”

His stomach sank. “Um, I, no, I mean, no, I’m—”

Teddy opened a door just down the interior hallway, stepping out. Color swept across his cheeks when he spotted Billy. “Mom,” Teddy said, quickly moving to stand by his mother. Side-by-side, they made a perfect vision of mother and son: beautiful, approachable, artistic, cool. “Um, this is Billy.”

“_Billy_.” She sounded, if anything, even more pleased. “No, of course. Come in, Billy. I’m sorry about the confusion,” she added as Billy slipped awkwardly inside. “Teddy never brings any of his friends over. I hadn’t expected to get to meet you until he came back from college.”

“_Mom_.”

Mrs. Altman cast her son a wry glance. “All right, fine, I’ll behave. It is a pleasure to meet you, Billy. You must be pretty special if he’s allowing you into his Fortress of Solitude ahead of the rest.”

“I, um, sorta cut the line,” Billy said, tugging off his boots. Teddy was shooting his mother an aggrieved look, but she just shook her head wryly and murmured something about going to make herself tea. Billy watched her go, struck by how young she seemed compared to his own mother. Not that Rebecca Kaplan was _old_—she just seemed like a _mother_ with her professional haircut and glasses and sharp suits. Teddy’s mom looked young and soft in comparison, golden hair falling in waves around her face, bangles clinking together as she moved, bare toes painted a bright Kelly green. 

Teddy shifted and Billy looked back at him, heart giving a little lurch. Teddy was rubbing the back of his neck, color still staining his cheeks. “Um.”

“Yeah?”

“We should—” Teddy jerked his thumb toward his bedroom and Billy followed willingly. He felt a quick, excited curl low in his belly when he spotted Teddy’s unmade bed, flaring higher when Teddy shut the door behind them.

_Stop it, brain, stop it, God. _

“So,” Billy said, pulling off his winter gear, trying to hide his flush. “Fortress of Solitude, huh?”

“Oh shut up,” Teddy muttered, grabbing one of his five billion scarves, balling it up and flinging it at Billy’s head. 

Billy reached up to catch it, ends unspooling in bright streamers down his arm, and arched an eyebrow. “Your defenses could use a little fine-tuning, Superman.”

“Thanks, Lex, I’ll get right on that. So.” Teddy pushed away from the door. “What do you want to do?”

Billy did _not_ look toward the bed. It took all his willpower but hey, he figured. Small victories. “Um. Are you up for getting your ass kicked in DC vs. Capcom?”

“What was that? Was that you asking to be totally dominated by my mad X-Box skills?”

Normalcy, Billy figured. Normalcy was okay too.

**

**CaptnAmazing:** Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, do you know what time it is? Yes! It is the time where Jamie gets to come home from his stupid boarding school and be FREE for a whole week!  
**Avngerfan2119:** The city is already quaking in its boots, lemme tell you. What time do you get in on Saturday?  
**CaptnAmazing:** I’m in on _Friday_, dumbass. March 22. Have you been ignoring me all month?  
**Avngerfan2119:** Wait, what? Friday? Are you sure?  
**Avngerfan2119:** Oh, crap.  
**CaptnAmazing:** You had better not have made plans, Billy.  
**Avngerfan2119:** Crap, crap, crap.  
**CaptnAmazing:** We have a _tradition_.  
**Avngerfan2119:** _Crap_!  
**CaptnAmazing:** Let me guess—Teddy?  
**Avngerfan2119:** I am so, _so_ sorry, Jamie. I got the days mixed up. I swear, I thought you were coming in on Saturday.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Jerk.  
**Avngerfan2119:** Yeah.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Well. The way I see it, there is only one way you can save yourself from being the worst best friend of all time.  
**Avngerfan2119:** What’s that? Seriously, anything.  
**CaptnAmazing:** _All three_ of us are going to have to hang out Friday.  
**Avngerfan2119:** …no way, Jamie.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Seriously. What’s his IM? I’ll tell him for you.  
**Avngerfan2119:** _Jamie_! There is no way I am unleashing you on Teddy!

**

He had no idea how this had become his life.

“Crap crap crap, excuse me, crap crap crap,” Billy muttered, squeezing through a gaggle of tourists and running up the subway steps. The karaoke place wasn’t all that far from where he lived, but there had been a delay on the green line and everything had been held up and he’d been sitting there for what felt like forever, jittering and checking the time and trying not to imagine all the horrible and completely true things Jamie was saying about him.

This had been a stupid idea, a completely _stupid idea_, he told himself as he nearly bodychecked a girl coming through the turnstile, calling out a quick, “Sorry! Sorry!” as he rushed past. He should have cancelled his plans with Teddy. He and Jamie had a long-standing tradition to go out and do something stupid and dorkyfun on the night he got back from school. If Billy hadn’t been so weird and starry-eyed over Teddy, he probably would have remembered the exact date Jamie was getting in for break, and he never would have made plans, and he wouldn’t be running late to meet them, and they wouldn’t be alone in the same room for nearly, God, twenty minutes, and this _would not be happening_.

His phone buzzed against his thigh and Billy fished it out, nearly dropping it into the gutter as he waited for the light to change.

**212-555-9078:** _where are u, loser? ps teddy rocks. can i marry him too_?

He pressed the call button, zipping in front of an elderly man with a walker, nearly sprinting across the street.

“Hey!” Jamie said when he picked up. Billy could hear a pounding beat and muffled voices. “We’ve already claimed the booth—we’re in number 11 when you get here.”

“Do _not_ say anything mortifying about me or I will kick your ASS,” he promised, weaving through people as he ran down the sidewalk. “I swear to God, I will.”

“What was that? You used to do _what_ with your Thor doll?”

“_Jamie_!”

Jamie hung up.

He _really_ needed to reassess their best friendship, Billy thought grimly, crossing one more street. He could just make out the karaoke bar half an avenue down, blue light flickering over the door. He shoved his phone into his pocket and practically slammed inside, offering the host a breathless smile. “Room…11…” he gasped, yanking at his scarf to pull it away from his neck, give him room to breathe. The man pointed toward the stairs and Billy scurried up, Japanese letters flashing over his skin from the blinking signs.

The main room was a bar, with a big screen and several mics that could be passed up and down the row. In the back were small rooms, somewhat soundproofed, with tables and private systems. He hurried down the line, glancing in through frosted glass at people singing their hearts out until he spotted 11. Billy made himself stop just outside the door, taking a deep, steady breath. Then he pushed inside, eyes casting around nervously.

The little room was dim and a bit musky. The television screen showed bizarre clips of deer bounding through the forest and a pretty Japanese girl chewing on a long piece of grass, staring out across what looked like a Colorado ranch. Jamie was standing, holding one of the mics, singing, “_Just a smalltown girl, living in a lonely world; she took the midnight train going anywhere_!” He gestured to Teddy, who was sprawled in the booth, holding his own mic like it was a snake. 

“Uh, _just a city boy, born and raised in_—Billy, hey!”

He straightened, welcoming smile breaking across his face. Billy fought a flush, smiling back and giving a little, stupid wave. Teddy scooted over, rising to thrust the mic into Billy’s hands as he shut the door. “You take over,” Teddy said, “I stopped believing a long time ago.”

“Come on, Billy,” Jamie protested when Billy turned, off-balance. “Chorus time. _Don’t stop believing! Hold on to the feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeling_.”

Billy mumbled along, mostly out of reflex, but it didn’t take him very long to actually get into it. By the time the song ended and the next one had begun, he’d shucked out of his coat and was wailing along with Jamie while Teddy drummed out the beat on the table.

Jamie collapsed next to Teddy at the end of the third song, grinning and flushed. Billy slid next to Teddy’s other side, lightly elbowing his ribs. “Please tell me you guys just sang a few songs while you waited for me.”

Blond brows arched, and Teddy and Jamie shared a look that had pure terror racing through Billy’s blood. “Oh,” Teddy said, “there was maybe a song or two. Actually.” He reached for the huge, phonebook-sized list of songs and thumbed through, then entered a number into the keypad. “Jamie said I should absolutely request this one. Apparently it will change my world.”

Billy leaned over him and hissed, “_You didn’t_.”

Jamie leaned over too, smirking. “You adore me.”

“You _snake_.”

“Adore me!”

The music started. Teddy prodded his shoulder. “Come on. Change my world.”

And he was pretty sure he would die of mortification, but somewhere along the way it became _fun_, and the three of them began choosing increasingly ridiculous songs for the others to sing on dares. Teddy had an okay voice—not great, not bad—but it was _hysterical_ to watch him try to get through the squeaky rap in _Waterfalls_ while simultaneously trying not to crack up. Jamie had no shame, as usual, slithering on top of the table for his rendition of _Teenage Dream_, and it wasn’t until they’d had their Cokes refilled three times (water twice) that Billy began to wonder what time it was.

In the middle of an absolutely terrible duet of _A Whole New World_, Teddy’s phone began to ring. He passed the mic to Billy and slid out of the booth, digging into his coat. Billy watched him out of the corner of his eyes as he took up the song, flubbing a few lines as Teddy’s face grew tight and weirdly almost grim.

“Hey,” Teddy said, reaching for the door, slipping out into the hall. “What do you want? Look, I _told_ you I had plans ton…” The rest was muffled by the door sliding shut.

Jamie immediately cupped his hand over the mic. “Do you think that’s Greg the Asshole?” he hissed, brows drawn together.

Billy bit his lip, staring at the door.

“Billy!”

“What? Oh. Yeah, I don’t know. Yeah,” he admitted. “He, um. He calls sometimes. I think he likes to keep a pretty, you know, tight leash on Teddy.”

And fuck, he hated that. He hated that _so much_. Teddy always looked upset when he got those calls, and weirdly anxious, and sort of…guilty? But he always took them. And every once in awhile, Billy could catch snippets of him fighting with Greg or, even worse, agreeing to go over later. And the rest of _their_ time together would be ruined, because all Billy could think about was him heading over to Greg’s later—undeniably handsome, _asshole_ Greg.

Jamie leaned against him. “Do you think they’re…you know?”

“I don’t know,” Billy mumbled.

“But he almost kissed you. You said so. If he and Greg are…you know…then what’s he doing almost kissing you?”

“I don’t know.” He twisted the cord of the mic around his fingers, stomach churning, and not even the bright, ridiculous music could lift his spirits. Jamie dropped his mic and slid his arms around Billy’s shoulders, pressing his face against his hair and _squeezing_. Billy grabbed grateful handfuls of his shirt and hung on tight, feeling stupid for needing the comfort and yet still so grateful to have it at the same time.

“You’re worth ten of that asshole,” Jamie murmured against his hair. “Easy.”

Billy squeezed his eyes shut, dragging in an unsteady breath as the song ended and another began. There had never been anyone before Teddy. Having a crush on the Human Torch or Captain America or even random guys around the city was different—_this_ was different. Because he actually knew Teddy, could call him up at any time of the night and make fun of his hair and send him texts and feel his arm drape around his shoulders, heavy and warm and so perfect it made his entire body drown in heat. Teddy was beautiful, and Teddy was funny, and Teddy was _kind_, kind in a way Billy still wasn’t used to sometimes.

And the way he had looked at him, in that secluded alcove, the light flickering over their faces…

“You good?” Jamie squeezed again, tight, and Billy lightly patted his arm.

“Yeah,” Billy said, opening his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. Whatever, so what if Greg the Asshole had called? Even if Teddy ended up ditching them later to go over to his place, he’d been there, been having fun with them, for hours. He’d given part of his time and his attention to Billy, and Billy didn’t have the _right_ to ask for more…no matter how desperately he may have wanted to. “Come on, let’s skip to the end of this song and start with a new one,” he suggested, getting a better grip on his mic.

They were rounding in on their third song when the door opened again. Billy glanced over, out of the corners of his eyes, trying not to be too obvious about it. Teddy was backing in, holding the door with his hip, hands full.

“Hey,” he said, expression a strange blend of sheepish and mulish. “Hope you don’t mind.” He set the pitcher of beer and cups onto the table, and Billy managed to more or less keep his cool, but Jamie was, predictably, Jamie. 

“Oh my God, you got us _beer_?” Jamie said, way too loudly, then quickly lowered his mic. “Dude, seriously? How did you swing that?”

Teddy shrugged a shoulder. “Old soul,” he said and, standing there with his piercings catching the dim light, head cocked defiantly, he _looked_ older. “You don’t have to have any if you don’t want to.”

Jamie was already pouring three glasses. “No, this is _great_. You are _great_.”

Billy drifted closer to grab his plastic cup, using it as an excuse to lightly nudge Teddy’s shoulder, their eyes meeting, holding.

_You okay_? Billy wanted to telegraph, wanted it so bad he thought maybe, just maybe, Teddy managed to read it in his eyes.

Teddy cocked his head slightly and leaned into him for the briefest moment, hand moving to the small of Billy’s back, just…hovering there at the dip of his spine, warm, seeking warmth. _No_, the touch seemed to say, _but thank you_.

Then he straightened and lifted the glass, eyes closing as he swallowed once, twice, three times, downing the contents in a graceful pull.

Jamie’s brows popped up in shock, then waggled when Billy shot him a quelling look. Even though he usually wasn’t wild about beer—he didn’t like the taste—Billy drank the whole cupful in solidarity. Teddy was already on his second, though he was going slower with this one, probably out of deference to Billy and Jamie.

_Don’t mind us_, Billy thought, swallowing around the bad taste. _We’re just your average run-of-the-mill utter nerds_.

They sang a few more songs to shake free the lingering weirdness, and somewhere along the way the pitcher was refilled a few times and Billy forgot that he hated the taste of beer. By the time they paid up, they’d been there for _hours_ and were all a little to the right of tipsy. Jamie was still singing as they made it to the street, throwing his arms out and spinning, then laughing when he almost lost his balance. Billy struggled into his coat, smirking, trying to find the stupid armhole. He was starting to realize he was failing with the fine motor skills and probably shouldn’t go home right away when Teddy stepped close behind him, hands on Billy’s hips.

“Here,” Teddy murmured, near his ear, and Billy bit his lip and nodded, not caring what he was agreeing to—agreeing to _everything_. Teddy caught his flailing wrist in one hand and dragged the other up his spine to catch the trailing end of his coat. He lifted it, bringing Billy’s arm back, helping him slide it into the sleeve before turning him and slowly, methodically, fastening the buttons.

He was standing close—so close—lashes casting dark shadows against his cheeks. A soft wind blew, making his colorful scarf lift and dance around them, like coils of smoke as his fingers slipped each button through its hole. He slid his hands down Billy’s chest when he was done, smoothing out the lapels, and Billy wanted nothing in the world more than to tip up his face and kiss him, soft and slow and sweet, until that lingering sadness went away.

“Wooo, I am so drunk!” Jamie said cheerfully, holding onto a post. He pressed his cheek against it, watching them with a wide, happy smile, and Billy reluctantly pulled back, breaking the perfect bell jar moment between them. 

Billy slid his fingers through his hair, bemused by the way the world tilted just a little when he took a step. “We are _so_ not going home like this,” he said.

“I’ve got somewhere we can go, if you want,” Teddy offered, and Jamie immediately replied, “Yes! Let’s go with Teddy; Teddy is _awesome_.”

Billy cocked his head. “If you’re sure you don’t need to be anywhere,” he said, hesitating.

Teddy shoved his hands into his pockets. “No,” he said shortly. “I don’t have anywhere I need to be. Come on, it’s just a few blocks that way.”

They weren’t too far from Grand Central—the Chrysler building helped orient Billy, even tipsy. It was good to know, he figured, and good practice for when he was older. He kept close to Teddy and Jamie, Teddy reaching out occasionally to snag the back of Jamie’s coat to keep him from veering into traffic, and there was something about the way he so easily embraced Billy’s admittedly weird childhood friend that made his insides glow. Well, that and the grim tone of Teddy’s voice when he said, _I don’t have anywhere I need to be_.

_So. Take that, Greg the Asshole. _

A few blocks turned out to be eight, which wasn’t very far but which felt like a marathon tonight. Finally, however, Teddy caught Jamie by the elbow and steered him to lean against a window, shaking his head wryly. “You did _not_ drink that much,” he said, bemused, but Jamie just beamed at him, completely blissed out.

Billy tipped up his chin, studying the building’s façade. He’d expected a restaurant or a club or something. Maybe a coffee shop. Not this. “It’s a sports club?” he asked, confused.

“I’m friends with the owner.” He was unlocking the gate, then the door, holding it open for them. “Come on, hurry up so I can get the alarm.” Billy scurried in, stumbling a bit in the dark, as Teddy relocked the gate and door, moving purposefully in the darkness. There was a low _beepbeepbeep_, red light flashing, keypad illuminating when Teddy flipped up the faceplate. He punched a code, then enter, and the beeping stopped.

“The light’s by your elbow,” Teddy said, “but if you can manage in the dark, there’s more ambient light upstairs.”

Billy gripped Jamie’s shoulders. “Come on,” he said, gently pushing him toward the dim outline of steps. The three of them made their way up in silence—mostly because, well, it felt _weird_ to be in a place like this after hours. The air smelled like sweat and leather and some kind of chemical. It was warmer than he’d expected, air heavy but not unpleasant.

Teddy led them up the steps and through a hallway, past swinging doors. The further they moved into the gym, the more light filtered in through high windows. Weights and exercise machines cast long shadows, and Billy caught sight of their reflection in a wall of mirrors—strange, unexpected shapes moving through the dim.

“This is awesome,” Jamie whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” Billy whispered back.

“Dunno!”

Teddy led them back through another short hallway, then held open a second set of swinging doors for them. Jamie’s indrawn breath didn’t prepare Billy for the surreal beauty of the empty room. It was large, three times bigger than the main workout floor, blue and green and white tile stretching across the floor and up the walls. Ghostly light licked across their faces, shifting and insubstantial as mist, the soft _whoosh whoosh_ of water echoing up to the cavernous ceiling.

Billy stepped away from the others, breath drawn, caught somewhere deep in his chest. He tipped his face up to watch moonlight filter through the three huge skylights dotting the roof. Clouds moved distant and cold across the moon’s face, dappling the pool below.

There was something reckless about this. Something reckless and wild and out of someone else’s life. This wasn’t _him_, Billy thought dizzily. This wasn’t him standing here, head still whirling faintly, in this place, having this experience. The real him was home, curled up under his blankets reading, or laying on his back dreaming up adventures. Not _having_ them.

He looked over at Teddy, lips parted to try to tell him _how much_ it meant to him, the way Teddy pulled him out of his own life and into these dreamworlds. He’d met new people, been new places, saw old things with new eyes, and it was all Teddy, all of it.

Teddy tilted his head slightly, eyes locked with his.

And then he took off his coat.

It dropped to the tiles with a heavy _thump_, pooling black as a shadow at his feet. Teddy unwound his scarf, dropping it behind him, then began to toe off his shoes.

Billy stood frozen, watching Teddy shift to one foot to pull off a sock, then the other. His toes were perfect, too, which somehow didn’t surprise him, forming a clear arch from big to pinkie. Billy’s second toe was longer than his big toe—his brothers liked to call him Gorilla Man—and was he seriously fixating on Teddy’s toes while the other boy tugged his shirt out from his jeans?

“Awesome, a locker room,” Jamie said, voice coming from far away. “I’m going to find a bench and lay down for a bit, guys—call me if you need anything.” And then he was gone, door swinging shut behind him.

Teddy unbuttoned his blue overshirt, thumb pushing buttons through their holes, focusing as the shirt began to part around him. “Didn’t you want to swim?” he asked, voice low, propelling Billy into immediate action because _yes_, God _yes_, he wanted to be in that water, with Teddy, he wanted…

He struggled out of his coat and shoes, dropping onto his ass out of self-preservation when he began to wobble. Teddy’s overshirt floated down next to him, light as air, and Billy swallowed hard. He looked up through his lashes as he tugged off his socks, watching as Teddy grabbed the hem of his undershirt and pulled it over his head, shucking it off in one fluid motion.

Teddy’s body was a deep, gorgeous gold, practically gleaming in the dim green-blue light. His arms were thick with muscles, shadows forming and fading as they flexed with his movements. Even his back rippled with power, skin tight over muscle, long line of his spine a dark blur leading to the lean curve of his lower back, disappearing into his jeans. Billy’s mouth went dry, heart beating so loud in his throat he swore Teddy _had_ to hear it, had to know what this was doing to him.

And then Teddy’s hands dropped to the button of his jeans and Billy had to close his eyes, overwhelmed with the surge of heat. But, God, he couldn’t keep his eyes shut, he had to _see_. To watch through his lashes, struggling desperately to conceal his panting breaths as Teddy popped open his fly and pushed down the zip. He hooked his thumbs into the waist, pushing them down long, muscular legs until they pooled there with the rest of his clothes, like a shed skin. His hands moved to the waist of his blue striped boxers and Billy thought his heart would _explode_. Then he paused, dropped his hands and contented himself with kicking free of his jeans.

“Meet you in the water,” Teddy said, voice low. He took five steady steps and dove in, graceful and effortless and so Goddamned beautiful Billy couldn’t take it. He watched as Teddy went deeper, making a dark shadow along the bottom of the pool as he glided toward the far end.

Then, all at once, Billy began _ripping_ at his own clothes, struggling out of his shirt, arms getting tangled as he tried to unfasten his pants. He wanted to be in there, now—in the cool, glittering, otherworldly water, near Teddy, submerged and, and _connected_. He leaned back and kicked off his jeans, grateful his own boxers were a respectable green plaid and not, like, Thundercats or something.

He stumbled a little as he clambered to his feet, gooseflesh rising along his arms, nipples puckering in the chill. Teddy had resurfaced on the far end of the pool, hair plastered back from his face, piercings gleaming. He smiled at Billy and sort of almost reached for him, hand skimming across the surface of the water, sending ripples out in ever-widening circles.

Billy took a deep breath and jumped in, feet-first. He squeezed his eyes shut against the shock of cold and chlorinated water, going down down down until his toes touched the bottom. He bent his knees, then pushed off, rocketing up to the surface again.

He broke the surface with a deep gasp, droplets flinging from his uplifted face, catching the light. He could hear the steady strokes of Teddy swimming toward him, water lapping against his skin as he bobbed there, waiting, breathless.

“This is crazy,” Billy said, grabbing for the ledge. It was too deep for his feet to touch, and there was water in his eyes. He squeezed them, trying to rub them clear, laughing a little at the surge of pure _joy_. Teddy tred water just a short distance away, grinning with him, and all of it—his proximity, the moonlight on water, the green-blue hush of this place, the tracers of alcohol still burning through his system, the thrill of knowing Teddy had chosen to be here tonight, here instead of with Greg—was enough to override his common sense. Billy reached out, one hand sliding over Teddy’s slick, warm shoulder, and then Billy was floating forward and into his arms, twining his own about Teddy’s neck. He rested his cheek against his own bicep, lips a breath away from that warm skin he wanted _so much_.

“Thank you,” Billy murmured, hips bumping against Teddy’s, legs moving lazily to help keep them from drowning. Teddy made a low noise in return, reaching behind Billy to grasp the ledge, and somehow…somehow, that brought Billy’s back flush against the pool wall, Teddy’s arms over him, penning him in.

His big, broad, powerful body, more naked than not, penning him in.

Billy squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the gasp that wanted to break free. He’d had dreams like this, the kinds of dreams that ended with him waking hot and hard and arching. He had to struggle to keep from arching up now, entire body all at once shocked awake and trembling. Teddy’s skin felt so _so good_ against him. So smooth and solid and perfect. He let the water buoy him up a little, thigh brushing against Teddy’s, and fuck, _fuck_. He bit his bottom lip hard, cock heavy, full and aching. He was shuddering with the painful-good surge of sexual awareness, fighting with everything he had to keep his hips tilted back, to keep Teddy from _knowing_.

“Billy,” Teddy murmured, chest vibrating. Billy tightened his arms around his neck, face scrunched up in embarrassment and need. One of Teddy’s hands dropped to his ribcage, high at his side, then slowly slid down, thumb pressing in on the careful stroke, following the curve of Billy’s body until it rested at the waist of his boxers, rubbing the skin just above the tight elastic. Billy fought back a strangled cry, hips jerking against his will, as Teddy slipped his thumb _under_ the elastic, just a little. “Look at me, Billy, please.”

Billy swallowed hard, then slowly lifted his head, eyes blinking open, and there, there on Teddy’s face was what he’d thought he’d seen at the museum—hunger. Billy gasped in a breath, lips parting, and suddenly Teddy was _right there_, his mouth covering Billy’s as if he had to swallow that noise. His lips were smooth, soft, breath a gentle gust against Billy’s mouth. And then his tongue was stroking past Billy’s parted lips and deep inside.

_Kissing him_.

Billy surged against him with a strangled noise, legs thrashing, searching for purchase. Teddy’s groan vibrated through both of their chests as Teddy pressed forward, one strong thigh pushed between Billy’s legs, giving him something to—_grind against_—rest his weight on, nudging him back against the slick tiles again as he stroked his tongue deeper and deeper, devouring Billy’s mouth with a hungry groan.

Billy couldn’t keep his hips still, didn’t _want_ to, arching against the hard strength of Teddy’s thigh as he desperately kissed back. Teddy was his first kiss, but he refused to be clumsy or embarrassed, too electrified to do anything but give Teddy absolutely everything he had. He stroked their tongues together, the slick glide sending liquid waves of heat through him, making even his fingers and toes tingle in response. He slid his hands over Teddy’s incredible shoulders, then down his chest, mapping out the play of muscles as Teddy’s tongue swirled against his, hot, so fucking hot he could hardly stand it. Billy swept his hands down low, then up again, gripping Teddy’s shoulders and digging his nails in as he pushed closer. He wrapped his lips around Teddy’s tongue and tugged a little, sucking eagerly, remembering those boys in the clip and how _good_ it had looked.

The noise Teddy made—choked-off, _sexual_—caused the hairs along his arms to stand up and his cock to jerk. Billy was harder than he could ever remember being in his _life_, the heavy, weighted pain of it so good he wasn’t sure he could stand it. Teddy broke the kiss to drag in an unsteady breath, but then he was there again, kissing Billy hot and hard, and it was so easy for Billy to tilt his hips forward and press his cock against the muscles of Teddy’s thigh.

Teddy tore his mouth way, gasping. “_Fuck_,” he said, hands dropping to Billy’s waist, dragging him _closer_. Billy rocked forward, lightheaded, completely lost to the sensation, the _need_. It was coursing through him in aching, rhythmic waves, dictating the urgent arch of his hips, the frantic kisses he pressed along Teddy’s wet shoulders.

Teddy’s nails dug into his hips, lifting him—God, God, the way Teddy moved him around, positioned him, was driving him _crazy_—and then pulling him forward, urging his legs around Teddy’s trim waist. Billy went willingly, ankles locked at the small of Teddy’s back, but it wasn’t until Teddy shifted forward and their erections brushed together that Billy understood, and by then—“_GOD_, Teddy,” he moaned, arching tight, sobbing in a breath. The pleasure of it was almost too much, almost more than he could stand. It seemed like it was almost too much for Teddy, too. They kept sinking a little, bobbing down further into the water before Teddy grabbed for the ledge and pulled them up again, his body driving Billy back against the cold tiles, sending surges of wildfire through his limbs. He could _come_ like this, Billy realized dizzily, and the knowledge was enough to have him turning his face to find Teddy’s mouth again, tongue sliding over his perfect bottom lip. Teddy grinned, hands on him, and Billy dragged his tongue over one of those maddening dimples, licking at the divit and shuddering, close, so close.

Distantly, he heard ringing and a door swinging open, but he was too wrapped up in endless yards of hot skin and Teddy’s tongue tangling with his, Teddy’s fingers sliding under the waistband of Billy’s boxers again, rubbing over the sharp jut of his hipbones and driving him _insane_.

And then Jamie’s voice, low and hissing, “I am _so fucking sorry_, you guys, but, um, Billy, it’s your mom.”

He turned his face away, gasping, not really processing the words but knowing they meant something important. “What?” he mumbled, limbs shuddering. Teddy’s thumbs slid out of his boxers and he gripped Billy’s hips, carefully lifting him up. Teddy’s muscles tightened, and suddenly Billy was breaking the water as Teddy lifted him out of the pool and sat him on the ledge. Billy’s drenched boxers clung to him, highlighting rather than hiding just how hard he was, even with Jamie standing there, one hand over the mouth of his phone, looking like he’d rather be _anywhere_ else.

“It’s your mom,” he said again. “She tried to call your phone, but, um, you weren’t answering? She sounds pissed.”

There was a splash as Teddy slid into the water, pushing off against the wall and gliding along the bottom again, swimming away. Putting literal and figurative distance between them. Billy watched him go, chewing on his bottom lip, entire body still alive with heat and longing and shocky, tentative joy.

But. Right, no. His mother.

“What time is it?” he asked, standing and going to his clothes. He grabbed his jeans and held them in front of him, like a shield, trying to hide the eager tent of his boxers.

“Um, 2 a.m.,” Jamie said, and Billy hissed out a breath. He hadn’t realized how late it had been when they’d left the karaoke bar. 

He held out a hand. “Okay, thanks, I’ll… We’ll be leaving in a few minutes—I’ll take this,” he said. He glanced across the pool once, toward where Teddy was swimming back and forth with a driven, hunted air, and his stomach slowly began to drop. _Shit_. He lifted the phone to his ear. “Um. Hi, Mom.”

Jamie made a dozen different sympathetic faces before beating a hasty retreat as Billy tried to explain that no, he hadn’t realized what time it was, no he hadn’t meant to make her worry, yes he would hurry home right away, yes he knew how much trouble he was in. Two towels came flying through the swinging door and Billy dried off as he listened to her measured lecture—Rebecca Kaplan didn’t yell when a good battering with logic would do—aware of Teddy coming to join him, drying off and beginning to dress silently. Billy pulled on his jeans and, awkwardly thanks to the phone, his shirt, making appropriate responses when needed.

He glanced up once, but Teddy wasn’t meeting his eyes, face turned firmly away, body completely walled off. Billy’s heart sank even further as he mumbled promises, grabbing his coat and stuffing his feet into his shoes, the effortless beauty of the night gone.

His mother kept him on the phone all the way to the street, Teddy locking up behind them. By the time he hung up, the three of them were facing off in an awkward triangle. “My train’s this way,” Teddy said, jerking his thumb. “Are you two going to be okay?”

“We’re okay,” Jamie said, sliding a protective arm around Billy’s shoulders, reading the mood. “If I’m not grounded too, maybe I’ll see you before I have to go back to boarding school hell.”

“Yeah,” Teddy said, trying for a smile. It didn’t seem natural, and he wasn’t looking at Billy at all. “That would be cool. You have my number?”

Jamie patted his pocket. “Got it. Night, Teddy.” He nudged Billy with his hip, and Billy murmured, “Night, Teddy,” quietly.

“Good night you guys,” Teddy said, glancing once at him, that horrible sadness back in his blue eyes, making Billy want to _howl_. And then he was turning and striding away, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched forward, rainbow-colored scarf curving out into the darkness with each gust of ice-cold wind, like a question mark.

**

**CaptnAmazing:** Hey, look at that, you’re alive! I was pretty sure your mother would eat your face.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Is everything okay? Was she super-pissed? Are you grounded forever?  
**Avngerfan2119:** Yes and no. I’m grounded—I’m losing computer privileges once I’ve finished talking to you (she says hi; she is standing right here) but she said you could come over if you wanted. Since you’ll be going back to school soon and all.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Oh. Hi, Mrs. Kaplan. That face-eating thing was totally a joke.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Sure, I’ll come over. I’ll be there in ten minutes, okay?  
**Avngerfan2119:** Okay.

**

“They confiscated my computer and my phone,” Billy whispered, curling up around his pillow. They were in his room, door closed but very aware of his mother just across the hall. “I need you to…to talk to Teddy, or. Or, wait, don’t, no, don’t talk to Teddy. That would be… I just… Maybe I could borrow your phone and call— No, that would be weird, and just, argh!”

He buried his face in the pillow, shoulders hunching.

It was the worst feeling in the world, not knowing where things stood. Worse than all those years of wanting and not having. Because now he knew what it felt like to dig his fingers into Teddy’s shoulders. He knew what it felt like to have Teddy’s breath hot as a brand against his skin. He knew what it felt like to twine their tongues together. He knew all that, he’d _had_ all that, but he had no way of knowing if he’d have it again.

“What do you think will happen? Is he, um. So are you two boyfriends?”

“I don’t know,” Billy muttered against the pillow. He turned his face, keeping his eyes shut, wallowing in misery and hope. “I don’t even know how it happened. It just…_happened_, and then it kept happening, and I have no idea how to make it happen again, or if he wants it to happen again, or, or _anything_.”

“Um,” Jamie said. “He looked pretty darn into it from what I unfortunately had to witness. I’m pretty sure you guys were—” He lowered his voice and leaned in. “Like. About to have _sex_.”

Billy lifted his head, flushed. “Don’t _say_ that,” he hissed. “Oh my God, that just makes it _worse_.”

Sex. Sex with Teddy. Moving with him, feeling Teddy’s erection thrusting against his, _grinding_, holy _fuck_.

He buried his face again.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Billy muttered miserably. “Not right now. I can’t talk to him, I can’t see him. Oh my God, I feel so lame.” He sighed, and Jamie reached over to rub a soothing circle between Billy’s shoulder blades.

“Maybe your mom will relent and let you go out,” Jamie offered, though both of them knew there was no hope of _that_. It had been 2:45 a.m. by the time Billy had made it back, still-wet, reeling so hard from everything that had happened that his parents would have suspected alcohol even if he’d stuck to Cokes all night. “Maybe she’ll give you, like, a sex moratorium.”

Billy straightened and smacked Jamie across the face with his pillow.

“Hey!” Jamie squawked, but he was laughing, making a grab for the pillow. They wrestled over it, Jamie making kissy faces, Billy hissing, “I swear to God if you’re not going to be helpful you can _go away_,” as quietly as possible. Jamie’s foot lashed out, knocking over the lamp, and a glass fell off the bedside table, hitting the floor and rolling. Jamie yelped and twisted, stifling a laugh. “Oh my God, get _off_! Save it for _Teeeeeddy_!”

And then there was a sharp knock on the door and Billy thought his heart would explode. He clapped a hand over Jamie’s mouth, shooting him a quelling glare, before saying, “Yeah?” He let go, wiping his palm on his jeans. Jamie had licked him, _gross_.

His mother stuck her head inside, light from Billy’s open blinds catching on her glasses. “Jamie, will you be staying for dinner?”

“Depends!” Jamie said brightly, straightening. His hair was sticking up at all angles, and a few loose feathers from Billy’s pillow were drifting from his collar. “What’s for dessert?”

Billy’s mother arched a single dark brow and Jamie quickly backpedalled. “I mean, um, yes, thank you, I’ll, sure. Thank you.”

“I’ll set an extra space,” she said, closing the door. Before either of them could so much as twitch, she opened it again. “Oh, and Billy?”

“Yes ma’am?” His voice came out a little strangled.

“Please don’t smother your houseguests.”

Rebecca Kaplan shut the door with a quiet _click_. Billy and Jamie slowly turned to look at each other.

“So,” Jamie said, voice low. “Your mother is kind of awesomely terrifying. I think she just made a man out of me. Do you figure I could marry her someday? If your father dies in a tragic unrelated accident!” he added quickly, rolling out of the way when Billy grabbed for him.

Billy flung his pillow at Jamie’s retreating form. “What, argh, gross, _Jamie_!”

“I’d be a super-great stepfather! Hey! No smothering houseguests, remember?” he squawked as Billy launched himself off the bed, grabbing him around the middle and wrestling him down.

Billy shoved the nearest thing he could find—gym socks; ha!—into Jamie’s face, knees pinning his flailing arms, expression grimly satisfied. “I think my mother will find it in her heart to make an exception,” he said darkly.

**

**212-555-9078:** _hey teddy, i got nominated to be courier. anything you wanna say to billy speak now_  
**212-555-3129:** _Hi Jamie. Tell Billy I’m sorry I got him in trouble. _  
**212-555-9078:** _lame! you can come up with a better message of hope than that_  
**212-555-3129:** _Okay, well. I guess tell him New York just isn’t the same without him. _

**

“It’s not the same without yoooou,” Jamie crooned softly, dodging Billy’s half-hearted kick. “Oh Billy, Billy, I am so sad and lonely wandering the mean city streets all by myself!”

“Shut up,” Billy hissed without any real heat, thumb brushing over the keypad. He wished he dared to text back, but he wasn’t sure he could handle the awkwardness of explaining hi, no, it was Billy, using Jamie’s phone, and he didn’t have anything to say, he just really wanted to talk to Teddy like an obsessed twelve-year-old girl, and _barf_.

But. Still. It was _really good_ hearing from Teddy. He could picture Teddy, wandering through the city on one of his long walks, finding new places—places he’d show Billy, maybe, places they could go together.

Billy ducked his face and Jamie laughed. “Oh wow, do you want me to leave you two alone? You can make out with my phone all you like if you promise to Lysol it a—”

This time, Jamie didn’t dodge fast enough.

**

**212-555-9078:** _picture? come on, t, if youre going to go all walking in memphis, we at least need pectoral evidence_  
**212-555-9078:** _ha, text-correct for the win! my phone wants topless pics of you_  
**212-555-3129:** _Your phone owes me dinner first, at the very least. _  
**212-555-9078:** _youre stalling_  
**212-555-3129:** _Okay, fine, here. _  
**212-555-3129:** _003131.jpg_

**

Billy enlarged the image, then immediately turned his face against the arm of the couch, cracking up. Jamie was leaning over him, resting his full weight along its back, bare feet swinging.

“I don’t get it,” Jamie said, “but it’s still pretty awesome.”

The picture was an extreme close-up of Teddy, his features contorted into comic fright, eyes cutting left toward what had to be the weirdest sushi advertisement Billy had ever seen—a bright pink, smiling cartoon octopus wielding eight knives, little chef’s hat perched at a jaunty angle.

“H-he’s,” Billy tried, laughing, but he just… He couldn’t explain; how could he explain Teddy’s weird _thing_ about marine life? “He, I just. Oh man.”

“Big fan of octopi? Octopuses? Octopies?”

Billy turned to look at the picture again, but Teddy’s exaggerated _OH SHIT_ face sent him diving back against the arm of the couch, muffling peals of laughter.

“Hmm,” Jamie said, stealing the phone from him. “I guess I know what you’re getting Teddy for his birthday, then.”

**

**212-555-5656:** Hey, Jamie.  
**212-555-9078:** Oh, good old landline. You know, I don’t actually have this number in my cell?  
**212-555-5656:** Yeah, well, Mom still has my phone. Did you want to come over? Do you have any…um, messages?  
**212-555-9078:** …you know, I’m starting to feel a little used over here.  
**212-555-5656:** Come on, be serious.  
**212-555-9078:** Yeah, I’ve got your package. Meet me at the corner of hallway and Billy’s room at 6. Bring the payment, and if it looks good, we’ll make the exchange.

**

Despite his protests, Jamie handed over his cell the minute he closed the door behind him, heading to Billy’s bookshelf to dig out some comics. Billy glanced over at him, making a guilty face, but… Well.

He moved to his bed and curled up at the foot, drawing up his legs. Billy rested his chin against his knee and flipped open Jamie’s phone, thumbing back to open his most recent messages.

**212-555-3129:** _Tell Billy that Clarence has stopped talking to me. He says, and I quote, You dont have anything useful to say, Blondie. Youre here to look at. If you want conversation, bring the other one. _

Billy grinned, ducking his head to hide his expression from Jamie (who was reading Young Justice; who was barely paying attention to him, but whatever), and scrolled to the next text.

**212-555-3129:** _I just got hipster-shamed out of a store because I forgot my personal tote. _

And,

**212-555-3129:** _Okay, you cannot tell me that this is not one well-dressed mothereffer. _  
**212-555-3129:** _090021.jpg_

Billy pressed a button to enlarge the image, snorting at the ridiculous—and, okay, fine, ridiculously well-dressed—bug-eyed puggle.

There were a few more—uniformly funny or wry or even a little insightful, but none of them were all that personal. It wasn’t that Billy _wanted_ Teddy to be texting Jamie personal messages meant for him (even thinking it all out sort of made his head spin) but…he couldn’t help but feel that Teddy was creeping back ever more insistently into a safe zone, a friend zone. Like being out of contact with Billy had given him the opportunity to press reset on their friendship and send them all the way back to before the Museum of Sex, before the pool, before things had begun to change.

And as much as Billy liked having these glimpses of Teddy, he wanted more than that. He wanted to know that when he could finally see Teddy again, everything he wanted so desperately wouldn’t be impossibly far out of reach.

“Hey, Jamie?” Billy said before he could let himself think it through. “Why don’t you go to the bathroom for awhile?”

Jamie looked up, brows arching. “Um. Huh?”

Billy waved Jamie’s phone at him. “You _really_ have to go use the bathroom. It may take a few minutes.”

“Are you _kidding_ me?” Jamie was standing, though he didn’t look too thrilled about it. “Why can’t I at least go down to the kitchen, or go bug your brothers?”

“Mom might suspect something. Come on, Jamie. Please?” He felt guilty for asking—Jamie was right; he had sort of been using him as a means to communicate with Teddy—but not so guilty that he was willing to take it back. “Just a few minutes,” he said, “I promise.”

Jamie huffed out a breath and grabbed an armful of comics. “Fine,” he said. “But your favors are seriously stacking up, Kaplan.” He headed to the door, pushing it open. “Oh GOD, do I have to take a dump or WHAT? Hold your breath, guys, this is going to be a _doozy_,” he said in an obnoxiously loud voice, making one final face at Billy before shutting the door behind him.

Billy immediately dialed Teddy’s number.

He chewed on his thumbnail as the phone rang, and rang, and rang. He was starting to think maybe Teddy wouldn’t answer when, on the eleventh ring, there was a click and a blare of obnoxiously loud music. “Hello?”

Billy’s heart gave a pathetic lurch at the sound of Teddy’s voice. “Teddy!” he said in a whisper-shout. “Hey!”

There was a pause, then, “Hello? I can’t— Jamie? I can’t hear you.”

“No, it’s, hi, it’s Billy. _Billy_,” he tried again, a little louder.

“Hold on a minute—I’ll go outside.” There was a rustle and Billy heard faintly, barely audible, “Hey, Greg, I’m going to head outside and take this.” A pause, then, “Oh come on, you are not. I’ll be right back. Fine, yeah, you too.” There was a muffled rumble, as if Teddy had pressed the phone against his chest, as if he were laughing—laughing at something Greg had said.

Billy slowly drew up, going tighter and tighter, listening to the soft rasp of the phone against Teddy’s shirt, hearing the music change, go quieter. He wondered what club Greg had dragged Teddy to this time, then thought, dizzily, _It doesn’t sound like Teddy had to be_ dragged _much of anywhere. It sounds like he’s having a good time_.

He bit his lip, hearing the sudden blare of traffic, then Teddy’s voice, much clearer now, “Okay, Jamie, go ahead.”

Billy closed his eyes and rested his forehead against his knees. “Jamie?” Teddy said, then, “Hello? Jamie? Are you there?”

Billy pulled the phone away and dropped it to the bed, arms wrapping tight around his legs. He heard Teddy’s voice, gone tinny through the speakers, “Hello? Hello? Okay, then.”

And then, nothing.

**

**212-555-9078:** So I guess this is goodbye until the summer.  
**212-555-5656:** Yeah.  
**212-555-9078:** Are you going to totally miss me?  
**212-555-5656:** Yeah.  
**212-555-9078:** …wow, enthusiasm, Billy. Look it up.  
**212-555-5656:** Sorry. I’m sorry. Yes, I’m totally going to miss you. I promise to pretend to stalk Sam at least once for you.  
**212-555-9078:** Aww, now there’s my best friend.

**

Billy was halfway across the school’s lawn before he spotted Teddy. He skidded to a stop, sudden anxiety and pleasure twisting through him, making his heart pick up speed. He wet his lips, moving more slowly, arms clasped around his History textbook.

“Hey,” Billy said, stopping a few feet away.

Teddy looked up from his phone, expression breaking into a wide, warm, _Teddy_ smile. “Hey,” he said. He shoved his phone into his pocket, straightening. “I know you’re still grounded, but I figured your mother couldn’t object to someone walking in the general direction of your house somewhat vaguely in your vicinity. And if he should happen to start talking to you about Alpha Flight, well… What can you do?”

_God_ he loved this boy. Billy tried to swallow down the dizzying surge of feeling, but it must have shown on his face because Teddy looked away, a dark flush creeping up his cheeks.

“Uh, sure,” Billy said quickly, flushing too. “Okay, yeah. Here,” he added, shoving his book into Teddy’s hands. Teddy glanced back, brows raised, and Billy gave a little shrug. “If you’re going to walk me home, you’re going to carry my books. Those are the rules.”

“I’m not sure I saw a notarized list when I signed up for this gig,” Teddy protested, and for that, Billy slung off his bookbag and pushed it into Teddy’s arms as well. “I _definitely_ didn’t check the box for beast of burden.”

Billy slid his hands into his pockets. “No refunds or exchanges. If you don’t like the terms of the agreement, take it up with Management.”

Teddy huffed a breath, but he shifted Billy’s bookbag so it was slung over his shoulder, his History text tucked under one arm. They started walking toward the subway, slower than usual. “So, how’s life in confinement treating you?”

“Oh, well, my mother is a psychiatrist, so she sees punishment as an educational opportunity.”

“That bad, huh?”

Billy made a face. “You have no idea. She let Jamie come over while he was still in town, though, so…that was good. I have a feeling that added an extra week or so to my house arrest, though.”

“An extra _week_? Crap, Billy. I’m—”

_Don’t say sorry; please, please don’t_. “No, whatever, it’s fine,” Billy said quickly. He couldn’t stand the thought of Teddy apologizing for what had happened between them. “I’ve been punishment-free for awhile, so I think she’s probably overreacting from lack of practice. Next time we stay out until the wee hours of the morning, it’ll probably be old hat to her.”

He couldn’t help the hint of a question he threw in there, glancing at Teddy out of the corner of his eyes. Teddy was looking straight again, expression frustratingly impossible to read. He didn’t say anything.

“So,” Billy tried again, breaking what was turning into a surprisingly awkward silence. “Um. I noticed you’re not wearing a scarf today.”

“Hm? Oh. Yeah, well, spring is springing.” Teddy drummed his fingers lightly against Billy’s book. “I haven’t packed away all my winter gear yet because it’s still early, but once April really gets going, I’ll start shedding skin like a snake.”

Billy wrinkled his nose. “Nice image. But seriously, I’m not sure I’ll recognize you without one of those things dangling around your neck. You should consider a light chiffon for the summer. Or, heeey, how about a cravat?”

“How about I push you into that sewer?” Teddy said good-naturedly, and they shared a quick grin that almost felt natural. There was still something a little…off about their exchange, Billy decided as they headed into the subway station. A faint hesitation between give-and-take that had never been there before. He wasn’t sure if he was _glad_ about that (maybe it meant Teddy was thinking about what had happened between them; maybe it meant Teddy was thinking about him _that way_) or upset (maybe it meant Teddy was trying to find a delicate way to untangle himself; maybe Teddy had been drunk or mad or just…not himself that night and he was embarrassed). Billy silently argued both sides with himself until they reached his stop, carrying on a shallow conversation with Teddy with only half a mind.

“Well, I’d better let you go alone from here,” Teddy said when they reached Billy’s corner. He handed him the History book, then tugged off his backpack, offering Billy a strap. Billy slid into it, thrilling against his will at the way Teddy straightened the straps across his shoulders for him, fingertips casually brushing Billy’s jacket.

He fought a shiver, turning fast enough that he was caught in Teddy’s personal space before Teddy could pull completely away. Their bodies were close—too close—and Billy tipped his chin up, meeting Teddy’s eyes and _wishing_ with all his might.

A slow flush spread over Teddy’s cheeks as he started to pull back. “I probably can’t come on Tuesday,” he said, “but I’ll try to see you next Thursday.”

“Teddy,” he said impulsively.

Teddy stopped, mid-retreat, looking at him with a frozen, anxious expression that made everything in Billy tip and rattle around. He grit his teeth, fighting the urge to say _No, never mind, it’s nothing_.

“Yeah?” Teddy said quietly. People were pushing past them, separating and converging around the little island their still forms made. 

“Um,” Billy said, digging his nails into his textbook. “I, so, I was just. I wanted to— What happened. At the pool. I thought we should…”

Teddy looked away. “Not here,” he said quickly. “I, yeah, I mean, I know we should talk about that, but… Not here.”

“Not here,” Billy echoed, uncertain. That hadn’t been a complete denial. “Okay. Um. So, I’ll see you next Thursday?”

“Next Thursday.” Teddy turned, still not looking at him, and hurried back into the subway. Billy watched him go, confused and anxious and hoping.

Mostly…mostly hoping.

**

**Celeb candids  
IT’S OFFICIAL: THOR LIKES SHAKE SHACK TOO, Y’ALL!**

Spotted at Madison Square Park chowing down on the real food  
of the gods, Thor and guest enjoy a relaxing twenty minute break  
from saving the world. New York natives can now expect the lines  
to triple as the weather warms. Thanks, Thor.

**SEE MORE PICTURES**

**

Billy dragged his feet all the way home. It was a Wednesday, which sucked. Wednesdays just _sucked_ in general now, because he still had two days of school left until the weekend, and it wasn’t a Teddy day, and he couldn’t go to the store to pick up his comics because he was _still grounded_, and he was pretty sure it was raining just to spite him. He huddled deeper into his coat, glowering up at the moody grey skies.

“Hey, Billy,” Sam said as she passed by on the way to her own house. She had one of those bubble umbrellas arching up and around her like a clear plastic spaceship. Even that annoyed him today.

“Hey,” he mumbled. She smiled over her shoulder before hurrying across the street, vaulting gracefully over a puddle.

Stupid puddles. Stupid rain. Stupid day.

Rationally, he knew he was being, well. Irrational. But it was such a grey, miserable, depressing day that he felt a certain right to be irrational. Billy trudged down his street and up the stairs to his brownstone. He shrugged out of his coat and boots at the door, but only to keep his mother from yelling about tracking mud onto the Persian rugs. Billy dropped his bookbag next to his brothers’ and headed dully up the stairs, ignoring the bright back-and-forth of conversation coming from the kitchen.

“Billy?” his mother called.

Billy paused, seriously considering pretending he hadn’t heard her.

“I know you can hear me.”

_Damn it_.

“Come into the kitchen, please?”

Billy sighed and turned around, slouching down the steps, through the dining room and into the clean, efficient and relentlessly modern kitchen. His father was sitting at the small kitchen table, reading an academic journal and making faces at his plain black coffee. He arched his brows a little when Billy paused in the doorway, gaze dropping to the sodden, disgusting hem of Billy’s jeans.

“‘Good Lord, Miss Elizabeth. Did you walk here?’” he asked gravely.

“It’s wet out,” Billy muttered. He hated work-from-home days.

His father turned in his chair to look up at his wife. “‘My goodness, did you see her hem? Six inches deep in mud. She looked positively mediaeval.’”

Usually Billy would have at least pretended he found his father’s stupid literary jokes amusing, but he was wet and he was bored and it was Wednesday with no comic books and no Teddy and no one was impressed over memorizing lines from _Pride and Prejudice_ anyway, _God_.

Rebecca patted her husband’s shoulder. “Can I assume from your general air of malaise that you’ve sufficiently learned your lesson?” she asked.

Billy straightened immediately, practically at parade attention. “Yes ma’am,” he said quickly. “I have definitely learned my lesson.”

“And we can trust you to stick to your agreed curfew from now on?”

“Definitely,” he said. “I will definitely make curfew from now on.”

She crossed her arms. “And if you _happen_ to be running late thanks to an error in judgment coupled with a missed train or unforeseen mechanical trouble, you will…?”

“Go to the nearest brightly lit, widely populated spot and call you to let you know I am taking a taxi,” Billy filled in.

“Mm. What do you think?” she asked, looking down at her husband. “Should we set him free?”

“‘She better liked to see him free and happy, even than to have him near her, because she loved him better than herself,’” his father said gravely, turning back to his journal.

His mother arched a brow. “Well,” she said. “You heard your father. Go be free. And don’t track in any mud!” she called as Billy turned and raced out of the kitchen. He made it all the way to the stairs before pausing, turning, and running back. “Thanks!” Billy said, poking his head into the kitchen. He waited for her fond wave of dismissal then sprinted out again. He thundered up the stairs, grin already starting to bloom across his face as he tore into his mother’s office. He flung himself into her chair, pulling open the top-left-hand drawer and there. There was his cellphone. Billy flipped it open and powered it on, loving his mother more than he had in years when he realized she’d even kept it charged, waiting for this moment.

He had the best mother. Scary, efficient, and always thinking of everything.

His father was pretty cool, too, Billy mused, speed-dialing Teddy. He spun himself around in the expensive ergonomic chair once as he listened to it ring, bare feet dragging along the glossy wood floor.

Teddy picked up.

“Billy!” he said, and there was real pleasure in his voice, enough to make Billy’s heart lurch. His face hurt, he was grinning so hard, and he carefully spun to face away from the door, just in case his parents (or one of his brothers, blech) walked by and spotted him. “Hey! So, I take it you’re a freed man?”

“‘I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed, or numbered! My life is my own,’” Billy quoted serenely.

There was a faint rustle, then the clacking of keys.

“Oh come on,” he protested. “Teddy, you do not have to look that up. Seriously? ‘I am not a number! I am a person!’”

“Not all of us can dedicate the same amount of scary brainspace to arcane geekdom as you do,” Teddy said. “I am not a… Oh, okay, _The Prisoner_. Very clever.”

Billy rolled his eyes, but he was still grinning. “You sound just like my mom when my dad decides it is Lewis Carroll day,” he said, and huh, that was actually…kind of a scary thought. Was he just like his dad? “Except…it’s cool, right? The scary brainspace dedicated to arcane geek culture?”

He heard the soft _click_ of Teddy closing his laptop. “Yes, dear,” Teddy said dryly, somehow managing to sound just like Billy’s mother again, even though he’d never met her. “That’s very impressive.”

Billy groaned and swiveled to drop his forehead against the desk. “Remind me to never bring you home,” he said. “I don’t need _two_ of you in my life. Oh, hey,” he added, straightening. “Speaking of lives, I, um, I’ve got mine back. Do you want to come to the city and celebrate? I’d come to Brooklyn, but I’m not going to take any chances with my curfew for at least the next few weeks.”

He wanted to see Teddy. He wanted to see Teddy desperately. The fifteen or so minutes they’d managed to steal together every other Tuesday or Thursday just hadn’t been enough, and he wanted… Well. He wanted to try to get Teddy to talk about that thing they hadn’t been talking about, that thing they knew they _had_ to talk about.

Teddy hesitated, and it was as if he could read Billy’s mind.

“I…wish I could,” he said slowly. “I’m glad you’ve been sprung from Arkham and all, but. I sort of made plans for tonight already. I’m sorry,” Teddy added as Billy began to deflate. “I’m really, really sorry, but I’ve been cancelling plans with, um, with these guys a lot over the last few months and I’m only just managing to make it up to them.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” Billy said. He jabbed desolately at the shiny brass lock on his mother’s desk, staring at the beige wall. “It’s wet and gross out anyway. You said you couldn’t come after school tomorrow?”

“Right. I’m finishing up a project for a grade, so I actually have to stick around for class instead of going off and getting inspired.”

He’d never noticed how bland his mother’s space was. Clean and orderly, yeah, but there was hardly any color. Not like at Teddy’s house. “Saturday?”

“We should definitely celebrate your freedom on Saturday. It’s supposed to be pretty nice—do you want to meet at Coney Island? I think Luna Park is open until 8:00 p.m. on the weekends now.”

“Yeah,” Billy said immediately. “Okay, that sounds good. I’ll meet you there around…12:00?”

“We can do Nathan’s,” Teddy agreed. “And check out the scary arcades. It’ll be great.”

“It’ll be great,” Billy echoed, no longer really feeling it.

Outside, the clouds parted to let through streamers of fitful light, but he was pretty sure that was just to spite him too.

**

**212-555-8743:** _Hey, here whenever you are. _  
**212-555-3129:** _Beat you to it. Im loitering outside Nathans. _  
**212-555-8743:** _K, five minutes. _

**

Billy left the station and jogged toward Nathan’s, jacket slung over one arm. April was a tricky time for New York—some days were still fairly chilly while others were decidedly spring-like. Today was one of the nicer ones, with a blazing sun overhead and blue skies as far as he could see.

The nice weather had drawn a crowd. A trio of kids darted around Billy, laughing and clutching primary-colored balloons. A mother paused to lower the sun visor on a massive black stroller. A boy and a girl were making out in a shady corner, tucked against a steel girder, hands moving restlessly. Billy caught himself watching them wistfully for a few moments, trying to picture Teddy wanting to do that with him. Just…tugging him back into some corner somewhere, hands sliding into his back pockets, curving around his ass.

He sighed, then realized he was standing there watching them go at it like some kind of creeper. Billy scampered off before either could notice, flushing darkly.

He spotted Teddy leaning against a wall across from Nathan’s, people-watching. Billy slid in next to him, lightly bumping their shoulders. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Teddy said, sounding subdued. He looked tired, a little drawn, but he broke into a crooked grin when he looked over at Billy. “You look pretty good for a recently freed man.”

Billy made a face at him. “Shut up, she cut it too short. I told her not to.”

“Scout’s honor, I wasn’t making a crack about your haircut. Though now that _you_ brought it up, how’s the shrimp business been treating you, Forrest?” Teddy ducked away when Billy took a halfhearted swing at him. “Okay, I promise. My lips are sealed.”

Billy smoothed his fingers through his hair—which was _not_ that bad. “Jerk. You owe me a corndog.”

“That’s a pretty steep price for such a lame insult.”

“_And_ fries. My pride requires grease to soothe its wounds.”

Teddy laughed, sliding an arm over Billy’s shoulders and tugging him toward Nathan’s. “Okay, _fine_. One apology corndog and fries coming up. Do you want—” He looked down as he spoke, cutting off suddenly when he met Billy’s eyes.

Billy felt himself flush. His entire body had begun to thrum the second Teddy touched him, pleasure coiling low and aching-hot through his blood.

Teddy smoothly dropped his arm. “Coke? Slushie?”

“Um, Coke.” Billy glanced away, feeling like an idiot, heart still pounding just a little too fast. From _one touch_. “I can always do Coke.”

“And a new advertising slogan is born.” Teddy wasn’t looking at him, though. He pretended to check out the menu, but Billy could tell—he could just _tell_—that Teddy was deliberately trying to avoid his eyes.

Billy stared down at the ground, scuffing his sneaker against the concrete as he waited. When Teddy handed him his food, he mumbled his thanks.

“Do you want to find a place to sit, or should we try walking and eating?”

“There’s a place I know a bit down the boardwalk,” Billy suggested. “We could go see if it’s free?”

Teddy lifted his pop in agreement. “Lead the way. I’ll try to bodycheck any adventurous seagulls who take a dive for the fries.”

They fell into step, walking down the boardwalk at an easy stroll. There were plenty of people passing them by, but the farther they went, the less crowded it got. In the summer, the whole place would be swarming, but now…

Billy sighed and tipped back his head, closing his eyes as he walked. The breeze ruffled his (too-short) hair, smelling of salt and hot dogs and engine grease. The whole world seemed more peaceful, somehow, distilled down to the tred of their heels against wood, the cry of the gulls, the distant _chug-chug-chug¬_ of the roller coasters.

“I love being here,” Billy murmured, opening his eyes again almost dreamily. “I have ever since I was a kid. Dad used to bring us—me and Andy and David—and give us quarters for the arcades. We’d get slushies, and I was always bummed that my rainbow one turned into a grey sludge at the end.”

Teddy lightly bumped his shoulder, and when Billy looked up, his eyes were warm enough to make his toes curl. _I love you_, he wanted to say. _I love being here with you_.

He quickly shoved his straw into his mouth and took a drag of Coke.

“Mom always wanted to spend a day down here when I was little,” Teddy admitted, following Billy as he veered toward the right, leading him back from the boardwalk. The crowd had seriously thinned out now that they were away from Nathan’s and the rides, and Billy’s old, familiar bench was waiting—shaded from the sun by a slotted wood roof, just far enough from the boardwalk to give the illusion of privacy. They sat, turned toward each other on the bench, and began to dig into their lunch. “We’d make plans every summer to go really early in the morning and spend the whole day, but we only made it… Jeez, once, I think.”

Billy took a bite of his corn dog. “Why only once?”

Teddy made a face, picking through the fries. “Single mother, no child support coming in, yadda yadda.” He always said personal stuff like that—like it wasn’t important. Billy glanced up through his lashes, studying Teddy’s face as they ate. He _definitely_ looked tired and, maybe, a little…upset?

Billy swallowed and wiped his fingers on a napkin, casting around for what to say next. Teddy didn’t talk a lot about his family. Billy still didn’t know whether his dad had walked or died. “What does your mom do, anyway?” he asked as casually as possible.

Teddy actually hesitated a moment, then shrugged a shoulder. “She’s a real estate agent. She works day and night in this shitty little office in Dyker Heights, showing people around to apartments at all hours and dealing with asshole landlords. So I guess it’s no shock she never had time to hang with me when I was growing up. Sorry,” he added quickly, making a face. “Wow, cue the sadsack music.”

“No,” Billy countered quickly, wishing Teddy would just keep talking. That was one of the most interesting things about Teddy. He was so handsome and so friendly and so easy to like that it took you a few weeks, months, to realize…you really didn’t know a thing about him. Billy loved the feeling of peeling back those perfect, glossy, funny layers and seeing deeper inside. Like…like Teddy was some kind of excavation site, secrets hidden like precious artifacts. He just got so few chances to _do_ it. “No, it’s okay, go on.”

“Seriously. You don’t want to hear it. That corn dog is hardly payment enough. Why are corn dogs so delicious, anyway?”

“Teddy, come on, please?” It felt like he was taking a gamble, pushing too hard, but… He wanted to _know_ more. Teddy kept so much of himself locked away, only revealing bits and pieces, and Billy was tired of seeing just parts of the picture. He couldn’t help but think that if he could only get Teddy to open up to him, then… What? Teddy would fall into his arms? Realize he could share everything with Billy and want to _be_ with him?

Maybe. He felt shitty for thinking he might have ulterior motives, but…maybe.

Teddy was starting to smile, clearly about to gently, easily turn the conversation away. “Please,” Billy said again, throwing everything he was behind it, “_I want you to tell me what you’re thinking_.”

The words came out…weird. Heavy on his tongue as if dragged out of his body. Billy bit his lip, but Teddy was already talking, giving in just like that.

Like magic or something.

“I get pissed when I think about it,” Teddy said. “I don’t even know who I’m mad at half the time. My dad for dying, the world in general, Mom for not admitting when things are hard, or me for making them even harder. It’s better now,” he added. “She’s one of the top agents in her area, and the place she’s working for now pays better and gives better, you know, benefits and stuff. Back when I was in middle school—”

He cut himself off, focusing on finishing up his food, but Billy could see the struggle on his face. Like he didn’t want to keep talking but felt compelled to go on. Billy let him be, picking at his own food, no longer even a little hungry. He finally balled it all up and stuffed it back in the bag at their feet. He couldn’t help stealing glances at Teddy.

Teddy was looking out across the water, drinking his Sprite, gaze very far away. The red letterman jacket he wore (for basketball, Billy thought, though he used to assume football) and jeans and green sneakers with their crazy whorls of ink and the piercings climbing up the shell of Teddy’s ear…all of that made such a striking image. A perfect, carefully constructed projection that Billy couldn’t be content with.

He reached out and very gently laid his hand over Teddy’s wrist, curling his fingers against warm skin. Teddy gave a little start, like he’d forgotten Billy was there, then glanced at him. His eyes were wet.

“Teddy,” Billy breathed, grip tightening.

“It’s stupid. This is stupid.” Teddy set aside his drink and wiped at his eyes with the cuff of his jacket, laughing a little. “I can’t believe I’m crying over something that old. I was in sixth grade—you’d think it all wouldn’t bother me anymore.”

Billy just squeezed Teddy’s wrist, not saying anything.

Teddy roughly shrugged a shoulder, looking away again, then back, then away, like he wanted to be facing toward Billy but didn’t trust himself to keep it together. “Really, it’s just— So dumb to be getting upset over ancient history. I don’t know why I feel so…so fucking compelled to tell you all this.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Teddy reached up to brush his thumb over Billy’s knuckles, so fast he could have missed it. A strange, quick, _thrilling_ caress. 

Then he sighed, shoulders curving forward.

“Mom was working at this crazy office back then. The pay was…I don’t even know what it was, I was just a kid. And the benefits were just shitty. It was all just shitty. I was having some problems. Going from fifth to sixth grade was tough for me. I was this… I didn’t have any friends, and we’d just moved so I was in a new place, and I was just this stupid, scrawny kid. They didn’t even bother to make fun of me at my new school, and for some reason, that got to me. At least in my old school, I got teased for being a twerp, and a few kids liked me enough to eat lunch with me. But here—we came in mid-year, and it was like I didn’t even exist. It was like I just walked through the halls and they saw right through me. And I was just— It was awful. It was just awful. There were days when I didn’t say a word from 7 a.m. until my mom got home at 8 p.m. Not a single word. And it was, I guess, I mean, I felt so… Lost, I guess. Anyway, I was having a rough time with that, so finally Mom had me go to see someone.”

Teddy leaned over, elbows on his knees, shoulders hunched a little with the memory of that misery. Billy wished he could say he knew the feeling, but the truth was, he didn’t. He’d never been invisible—he’d always had the opposite problem. He’d always drawn _too much_ attention, all his life.

But the picture of Teddy as a little, gawky sixth grader, silent from sunrise to sunset because no one even bothered to acknowledge he was _there_… He drew in a shaky breath, feeling his own eyes burn a little in empathy.

“It was actually really helpful, going to talk to the therapist. I am seriously 100% behind therapy. Things…changed and I started hanging out with Greg and the others and it was like everything came into focus again. Anyway. Time went on and it was much better, for me. Mom tried to hide how stressed out she was getting, and I was okay with letting her. I mean, I just didn’t get it. When you’re that age, you don’t get these things. Until one night I got up to get a glass of water and I realized she’d fallen asleep at the kitchen table again. It was pretty late, and she’d been working crazy hours. I thought things were just going that good; I didn’t know any better. There was a checkbook on the table, and bills, and a few collection notices, and bank statements, and all this…” 

Teddy gestured, as if to encapsulate the huge, grown-up world he’d probably never considered—that Billy didn’t really think a lot about even now, if he were honest with himself. “The bills were for my therapy sessions. Our benefits barely covered a quarter of them, and I’d been going for weeks and weeks, just, God, talking about Transformers and soccer and the Mets and how much I hated living where we did. It helped to talk to someone, but I had no idea how much it was _costing_. How much I was costing my mom, and not just literally, with expenses, but. It was like, standing there seeing her like that, all I could think was if it weren’t for me, life would be so different for her. Maybe not perfect, but not as hard. I was making it harder for her, and she never once let it show. Fuck, and she’s started talking more about saving for college, and her hours have gotten crazy again, and I just know she’s been doubling up on hours so she can save money for me. Last night she came home really late, dead tired, and it was like it was all happening again. And. And I don’t even know how to ask her to stop. I don’t know how to tell her screw college—I’d rather she just came home so I could see her. And. Just. Grah.”

He pushed back, waving his hands like he could blow all the words away. “Why are you letting me cry all over your shoulder?” Teddy demanded, rubbing at his face. “God. I could have just stuck with _we didn’t have a lot of time to come down to the shore_ and have left well enough alone. I don’t know how you got me to talk about all that.”

“No,” Billy said, turned fully toward him to memorize Teddy’s face. There were a few tears still trapped on Teddy’s long lashes and his eyes were rimmed in red. He’d never looked more beautiful. “No, I mean, I wanted to hear it, I— Thank you. For sharing? You don’t share a lot.”

Teddy cast him a wry look. “Well. Can you blame me if I’m going to blubber all over the place every time?”

He was trying to lighten the mood. He was trying to step them back from the ledge they’d inched toward. 

Billy didn’t _want_ to step back.

“Fuck that,” Billy said, very clearly. He caught Teddy’s face between his hands, turning it toward him, leaning in to press their mouths together as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if he’d been kissing Teddy for _years_. He tilted his head, lips moving softly across Teddy’s, then again, feeling the shape of Teddy’s mouth, the warm, surprised gust of air that escaped his lips.

Teddy reached up to catch Billy’s wrists…then dropped his hands, eyes sliding shut. Billy slowly deepened the kiss, tongue brushing along the curve of Teddy’s lower lip. When Teddy made a soft noise, he licked inside, hands sliding up to dig his fingers into soft blond hair.

The taste of him… Okay, well, he tasted like Nathan’s fries and Sprite, but under that, it was pure _Teddy_, already familiar somehow, already necessary. Billy shivered and sank deeper into the kiss, stroking their tongues together. He pressed in, tempted to just…crawl into Teddy’s lap and straddle his hips so he could feel his body hot and responsive under his own. Billy actually shifted to do it, half-lifting off of the bench when Teddy’s hands closed around his wrists again.

Teddy carefully turned his face away. “Billy,” he said, voice soft and full of so much apology and _regret_ that it was like being kicked in the face. Billy hissed in a breath, sitting down hard, and let his hands be tugged down between them. Teddy seemed to be having a hard time looking at him, cheeks flushed red, lips wet. “Billy…damn it.”

“I’m sorry,” Billy said quickly, horrified. He tried to pull back, but Teddy’s grip on him tightened, holding him still.

“No,” Teddy said, finally meeting his eyes. “No, no, God, no, just… This is my fault. _I’m_ sorry. For the pool, for, um. For leading you on.”

“Oh.”

“You’re one of my best friends, Billy. And I’m just— I can’t _believe_ I fucked up so badly, but there’s… Things are just…” Teddy let go of Billy to drag his fingers through his hair. “God, it would help if I could actually _talk_.”

He felt…he wasn’t sure how he felt. Numb, at the moment, but it was the kind of numb that promised pain to come. “You’re just not interested in me like that.”

Teddy cast him a quick glance, looking as miserable as Billy knew _he’d_ feel, later. Once it sank in that yeah, this was a rejection. This was Teddy telling him that everything he’d been wishing for over the last handful of months wasn’t going to happen. _Despite_ how close they were getting. _Despite_ the way Teddy touched him, or drew close to him, or…

Or kissed him.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Teddy said quietly. “It’s just… It’s complicated. It’s confused. _I’m_ confused. And I don’t think we should…go there. What happened at the pool—I didn’t mean for that to happen. And the thing is, I like you, Billy, I _really_ like you, and I want us to be friends. I haven’t been lying to you; you have no idea how much you mean to me. But there’s— It’s not as simple as—”

“Greg?” Billy asked quietly, hating to even say the name.

Teddy made a frustrated noise. “It’s complicated,” he said. It wasn’t an answer, but it was enough of one, Billy decided. It was enough of one for now.

“Like Facebook.” The joke hadn’t been funny the first time he’d used it, and it _still_ wasn’t funny, but he had to say something. He had to find a way to end this horrible, _horrible_ conversation, because the numb was beginning to fall away and the pain was coming swift on its heels. “Look, I… Um. I think it’s better if I go home now? We’ll hang out again soon,” he added quickly, when Teddy opened his mouth. “I’m not…mad. I just. You know. Need to not be looking at your face right now.”

Teddy rubbed the back of his neck, looking miserable and guilty and anxious all at once. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I don’t blame you. Okay. You’ll…?”

“Call you, yeah,” Billy said, standing. He could still taste Teddy on his tongue. He had to curl his fingers up into fists to hide the shaking. “I’ll call you.”

“Billy. I’m so sor—”

Billy took a jerky step back. “_Don’t_,” he said, a little sharper than he’d intended. Then, quieter, “We’re friends, right? What’s a little accidental making out between friends? Um. Let’s leave this here, okay? And just. Not talk about it again, and… Um, bye.” He turned and raced away before either of them could say anything else.

As exits went, it wasn’t the smoothest, but Billy wasn’t sure he could stand there looking at Teddy any longer. Teddy, who got him like no one else did, who made him laugh, who was the sweetest person he’d ever known, who’d actually peeled back a little of that façade and let him take a peek inside…and who, apparently, liked him, but didn’t like him more than he liked _Greg_.

_I’m never coming back here again_, Billy thought bitterly, and he didn’t even care if it was melodramatic. At the moment, he meant every word of it.

**

**212-555-3129:** Hey Billy, it’s Teddy. I just— I’m sorry I’m calling, but can you just let me know that you made it home okay? You don’t have to talk to me right now if you don’t want to. Just let me know you’re okay.

**

**212-555-3129:** Hey, so. Sorry for calling again. You can kill me for this later, but I’m just, I really need to know that you made it home safely. So. Let me know.

**

**212-555-3129:** Seriously, Billy, come on. Call me back, or text me, or e-mail me, or send a letter by raven or whatever you want. I don’t care. Just let me know you made it home.

**

**212-555-3129:** Okay, Billy, now you’re just being an ass.

**

**212-555-3129:** Hey man, Jamie gave me your home phone number. If you don’t let me know that you’re alive and okay by tomorrow morning, I’m going to call your mom and ask her myself. Gosh, I hope that doesn’t end badly for you.

Teddy picked up on the second ring. “Oh, hey, look, you’re alive,” he said, voice utterly flat.

“God, what is _wrong_ with you?” Billy demanded. It came out too loud, too harsh, and he shot a guilty look toward his door—it was getting pretty late. He hunched over and lowered his voice, practically hissing into the phone, “When someone doesn’t return your calls, it means they _don’t want to talk to you_.”

“Yeah, actually, we’ve been through that before. Remember?”

Billy winced at that, turning away from the desk. Okay, so, maybe he had an issue with avoidance. But still.

Teddy kept going. His voice was tight, laced with anger and something Billy didn’t recognize, something altogether new. “Look, you can be pissed at me. Fuck, I mean— I _deserve_ for you to be pissed at me. _I’m_ pissed at me. I screwed up, and I hurt you, and that’s—You’ve got to believe me, Billy, that’s the last thing I ever wanted to do. I don’t think you get how big you are in my life. I don’t think you get how much— So, yeah, okay, give me the silent treatment. I get it. I earned it. But don’t go running off upset and not let me know you made home in one piece. I was worried, and I was starting to get scared, and that is a _shitty_ thing to do to someone.”

Billy squeezed his eyes shut. “Oh my God, you’re such a dick.”

“Well, fine. Great. I’m a dick, then.”

“No,” Billy said, dragging in a breath, caught between something that felt weirdly like a sob, came out almost like a laugh. “I mean, yeah, but— Come on, Teddy, how am I supposed to convince myself you’re not worth all, all _this_,” he gestured as if Teddy were there to see, meaning his crumpled bed where he’d been crying earlier, the overturned bust of Thor he’d kicked moodily out of his way, his own stupidly aching…_everything_, “if you keep being _wonderful_?”

There was a long pause. “Um,” Teddy said.

“Yeah,” Billy retorted. “Don’t you feel like an ass now?”

“…yes? No? I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

Billy dropped his head against his knees. “Halfway. Look, um. So, hi. I’m alive. I made it home okay. I still just…really need to not see you or hear from you for a little while. Just. Give me a few days to be embarrassed, all right? And then we’ll, I don’t know, go hang out at that stupid ping pong place you’ve been dying to visit.”

“Hey, _table tennis_ is awesome.”

Billy lightly beat his forehead against his knees. “Uh-huh,” he said. “So.”

“So… Billy. Fuck. I’m so s—” But Teddy cut himself off this time. “Right, okay, radio silence. I’ll, um, talk to you later sometime.”

“Yeah,” Billy murmured. “That works. Hey, Teddy?”

“Yeah?”

He turned his head, eyes still closed, cheek against his knees. “Good night.”

The shaky gust of breath made Billy’s heart twist. “Good night, Billy,” Teddy said, the words soft as a touch.

**

**Avngerfan2119:** It’s just, I’ve never been dumped before.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Stupid Greg.  
**Avngerfan2119:** _Stupid_ Greg.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Stupid Teddy.  
**Avngerfan2119:** Well.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Seriously?  
**Avngerfan2119:** Well, I mean, but it’s _Teddy_.  
**CaptnAmazing:**Wait, are we officially still in Denial or have we skipped to Bargaining? I can never keep up.

**

Billy made it a little over a week before he decided _fuck_ the stages of grief and called Teddy. “Hey,” he said, thumbing through his Bio text, words and pictures blurring together into a wall of visual white noise. “So, do you want to hang out this weekend?”

“Name the time and place,” Teddy said immediately.

“Well, you always said you wanted to check out the mad Scrabble action at West 4.”

He could practically hear Teddy’s grin through the line. “Wow, Scrabble in the Village. We’re living dangerously. 11:00?”

“Sure, yeah.” He let his hand drop, staring down at the page—a gory, glossy insert of a dissected pig. “Um. See you then.”

Scrabble wasn’t so bad, even though Saturday dawned grey and overcast. But seeing Teddy sitting across from him, chatting with the elderly lady at the rickety table to his right as if he’d known her forever, open and friendly and courteous and amazing and, and…

It just sucked. It _sucked_ seeing those dimples flash, knowing what it was like to brush his tongue over one, knowing he could never do that again. Knowing that when Teddy looked his way, he’d have to look down or things would go from almost sort-of okay to cataclysmically awkward in seconds.

It was sort of like opening Pandora’s Box, Billy mused, spelling out another pathetically weak word. Once it had been unlocked and all that truth came tumbling out, there was no easy way to slide it shut again.  
Even the most innocuous moments became charged and miserable.

Like:

“Should we take up museum trolling again?” Teddy mused a few days later. They were sitting on a bench in Central Park, idly watching people jog by. “I’m pretty sure we’ve got five bazillion to go.”

“Um.”

The last museum they’d been to was the Museum of Sex. Billy wasn’t sure if his kneejerk reaction of _no museums ever_ was because they reminded him that he wasn’t Teddy’s boyfriend or made him feel like he sort of _was_.

“I think I’m kind of museumed out for awhile, actually.”

Or:

“Oh come on,” Billy said, mashing the button with his palm fastfastfast that next weekend at the arcade, “why do you suck so hard at this?”

“You’re clearly cheating,” Teddy countered, bringing his hand down, raising it too high to be effective. Billy could have told him you had to be hummingbird light and fast, barely lifting your palm. Anything else just wasted time. “Cheating with your…your insane skill and clear superior ability, aw, _crap_.”

“Ha!” Billy crowed, turning toward him, laughing. “In your _face_, Altman.” Teddy just shoved at him playfully, and the feel of his hand against Billy’s bare arm was enough to make them pause. Billy looked away, feeling stupid, stomach doing anxious flips. “I’m going to get a pop,” he said, jerking his thumb, just as Teddy said, “Do you want something to drink?”

And:

“I can’t believe you told my mother we were interested in going to yoga with her,” Teddy complained the _next_ weekend, digging through his dresser. “Now she’s convinced I’ve always secretly wanted to go—I was just too embarrassed to ask.”

“Aw, isn’t that going to suck for you?” Billy said, utterly merciless. He leaned back on his hands, idly watching as Teddy tossed his sneakers, dark sweat pants, and socks onto the bed. “At least it wasn’t pilates. This time. Though I’m pretty sure she _did_ offer…”

Teddy turned on him, t-shirt clutched in one hand, pointing threateningly with the other. “Don’t you _dare_, Kaplan. I know where you live.”

“So scaaaaary.”

Teddy snorted, then sighed and dragged off his shirt. He tossed it toward the hamper, muscles moving, and Billy’s throat suddenly went _dry_, his entire body clenched up tight at the sight of all that _skin_. That bare chest, shoulders, arms.

He swallowed, eyes dragging up to meet Teddy’s, and Teddy’s cheeks were just as flushed as his.

“Anyway,” Billy said quickly, and Teddy turned away, struggling into his t-shirt fast, the awkwardness a palpable wall between them.

But worst of all:

“Hey,” Teddy said idly, tipping his head back toward the sun. The days were really beginning to warm up. “Do you want to go swimming? We could go to my friend’s…”

Billy looked at him. Teddy looked back.

“…Never mind.”

**

**212-555-3129:** _Hey sorry, Im going to be almost an hour late. Mom called. She needs me to get the slow cooker going. _  
**212-555-8743:** _No problem. Ill probably head down anyway and just wait in the park. Ive got a new book of crosswords. _  
**212-555-3129:** _Did I ever mention I wanted to be just like you when I got old? _  
**212-555-8743:** _Yeah, sorry, anyone who takes that much delight in a Monopoly tournament has no room to talk. _

**

It turned out Teddy was barely late at all. “Hey,” Billy said, not looking up from his book. “What’s a 5-letter word for a kind of cavity?”

“The hell if I know,” Greg said.

Billy yelped and twisted on the bench. His whole body went tight and flushed with fight or flight, stomach sinking at the all-too-familiar smirk on Greg’s handsome face. He’d known more than his fair share of guys like Greg; he didn’t have to wonder what that look meant. Billy knew, knew _instinctively_.

Bad news for him.

“What are you doing here?” he said, trying to sound confrontational, but it just came out sounding weak. Billy began to scramble up but Greg snaked out an arm to grab him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him down again. “Get _off_ me.”

“I don’t know how much time we’ve got,” Greg said, fingers twisting tighter. The firm pressure of his grip pulled Billy’s head down until he was halfway bent over, collar digging hard into the back of his neck. “So I want you to listen to me. I’ve let Teddy waste his time with you for the last few months because I had shit that needed doing, so it was okay if he blew off a few nights to go and do…whatever you two do together. But it’s going to be summer before long and I’m going to need you to go ahead and _fuck off_ now. We’ve got plans for the summer and I don’t want him getting distracted.”

Billy reached up, trying to loosen Greg’s grip, gasping when he twisted tighter, making his collar constrict around his throat. Only for a moment, though, only enough to be a clear warning. Then he was letting go, letting Billy up. His dark brows arched innocently.

Billy straightened like a shot but didn’t stand—he didn’t _dare_ stand, and the impotent fury that washed through him at his own cowardice was bitter in his throat. “Why are you telling _me_ all this?” he demanded, not letting himself rub his neck. He didn’t want to give Greg the Asshole the satisfaction. “Tell _Teddy_ if you guys are really that tight.”

_How_, Billy thought, glaring at the other boy. _How the hell does someone like Teddy end up tangled with someone like this_?

Greg was hot, true—a darker, slicker, even more All-American shadow of Teddy himself—but it had to be more than that. Way back when, Billy may have believed it was just about attraction, but that was before he knew Teddy, before he understood some of the secret coils and springs and cogs that made him tick. He refused to think it was so shallow an answer.

But he’d be _damned_ if he knew the real one. 

“Teddy’s been having a hard time of it lately,” Greg said smoothly. He leaned back and folded his hands over his stomach, watching Billy with a single cocked brow. “Anything I can do to make things easier on him, I’ll do.”

“Oh yeah,” Billy muttered. “You’re a real hero.”

“And you’re a real smartass. Did you know that?”

He knew he should keep his mouth shut. That’s what Greg expected him to do. That’s what a good half of him _wanted_ to do. That’s probably what the Billy of a few months ago would have done. But even though he didn’t have the courage to really, actively defy Greg the Asshole, that didn’t stop him from drawling, “Yeah, I have it on good authority that I’ve got some sass in my frass.”

“Jesus, you’re a real piece of work. Look, I don’t want to kick your ass— No, fuck it, strike that. I definitely want to kick your ass. But I’m willing to take the easy way out if you are. Just back off with Teddy. Don’t call him, don’t see him, don’t text him, don’t fuck with him, and my guys and I don’t fuck with you. We’ll leave you alone.”

“And if I refuse we’ll, what, meet at the old lot at sundown and duke it out? Will it be a real Jets and Sharks showdown?” Billy jerked back as Greg reached for him, flushing darkly when the other boy just laughed and held up his hands. Enjoying this. Greg the Asshole was _enjoying_ this, enjoying the power he had, enjoying the way he could make Billy flinch away. “How did you even know I was here, anyway?”

Greg settled back again. “I called Teddy,” he said. “When he said he had plans, I figured they had to be with you. All the other guys are coming out with me tonight. I just had to try a few of his haunts and bingo. He’s pretty easy to read once he gives you the key, don’t you think?”

Billy’s hands fisted.

“Come on. One last chance. Do you want to walk away with your face and your dignity intact, or do you want to challenge me on this? You’re not going to win, you know. If you think you can make some big play for him, you’re fucking delusional. Teddy’s been my friend ten times longer than he’s given two shits about _you_.”

“I don’t believe you,” Billy murmured, then louder, “No, you know what? I don’t believe you. I _refuse_ to believe that you two are _friends_. Teddy’s better than that.”

Greg shot him a look. “Cute. But stupid. I’ve known Teddy before he was anything. I knew him back when he was just this little twerp too shy to speak to a shadow. Fuck, I _made_ him into something, and I could unmake him just as easy. You think you’re the only one who knows anything about him? I’ve been able to give Teddy something he wants more than anything—something you can’t even come close to offering.”

“Oh yeah?”

Greg reached into his pocket and Billy winced, but he was just pulling out a cellphone. “Yeah. And the fact that you’re scrambling to figure out what I’m talking about means you don’t know _shit_ about what makes him tick. So what’s it going to be?”

Billy squirmed. He really, _really_ didn’t want someone like Greg the Asshole breathing down his neck. He already had enough trouble in his life running from thickheaded jackholes like Kesler. But really. There was no choice here. There was no question what his answer was going to be. He’d take whatever Greg had to offer, suffer whatever beatings and humiliations he had to. “Fuck off,” Billy said, tensing for the blow.

“Your call.” Greg flipped open his phone and pressed a number. His eyes locked with Billy’s as he lifted it to his ear, waiting patiently. “Hey Teddy,” he said after a few moments, voice changing subtly. _Shifting_ into something approachable, something friendly. Charismatic as fuck. Billy’s brows shot up, but Greg just smirked at him. “So it looks like it’s just you and me tonight after all. Can you meet me at Luigi’s in an hour?”

Billy clenched his fists in his lap. He couldn’t help flashing back to all those times Teddy had slipped to the side to take a call—a call from Greg—his broad shoulders going tighter and tighter in palpable misery. He couldn’t help remembering the night they’d gone to the karaoke bar and Teddy had said _no_…and the play of pain and reckless mulishness on his face after as he downed his beer in one long, desperate pull. Billy had witnessed so many of these calls—it was surreal to be on the other end now, to hear all the subtle and not-so-subtle ways Greg beat Teddy into submission.

He wanted to reach out and grab the phone from the asshole’s hands. He wanted to _stop this_.

“Teddy,” Greg said, the tone of his voice subtly changing again. “Yeah, I _get_ that you have plans. No. No. Okay, and? Jesus, don’t be such a dick. You spend the entire semester blowing me off—what am I supposed to think? Are you done with all that? Are you done with me? Yeah. Yeah, I bet you’re sorry.”

Greg rolled his eyes at Billy, almost like they were in this together.

“Uh-huh. Then prove it. Prove you give a shit. Come on, man, Luigi’s in an hour. It’s important. It won’t happen if you’re not there. You know it won’t.” He paused, then lowered his voice, going deeper, more intimate. “Teddy, please. You know we aren’t a team without you. You know I need you.” Another pause. “Yeah. Yeah. Okay. We’ll see. Look, I’ll call you right back. I’ve got to take care of something real quick.”

He closed his phone. Billy watched silently, stomach churning, emotions bubbling close to the surface. He wanted to say something sharp, cutting. Wanted to say _that doesn’t prove anything _or _go to hell_. Instead he just sat there, watching Greg, hating him, waiting for his own phone to ring.

Greg made a face. “He’s really twisting on the rack now,” he said. “It’s going to stay like this until one of us blinks, Dr. Ruth, and I sure as fuck am not going to step aside. So unless you _like_ making the kid miserable, I’d suggest you bow out right now.”

Billy let out a slow, shaky breath. What did that mean? Did that mean Teddy had said no? “You’re an asshole,” he said, but his voice was uneven, a little trembly, and Greg just waved it off.

“Yeah,” he said, “I’m a real piece of work. He’s not coming today. The rest of this can’t play out in front of an audience, but I _swear_ to you, whatever it takes, he’s not coming today.” He stood, towering over Billy—a dark, threatening presence. “This isn’t over.”

Billy wanted to say something to that—some clever retort, to show how much he didn’t care—but the words dried up in his mouth when Greg grabbed for him. Billy shrank back fast, pressed tight against the arm of the bench, nearly skittering over its side. Greg’s fingers tightened in his collar again, then loosened, brushing over the crumpled fabric. “Later,” he said thoughtfully, as if talking to himself. “I’ve got that call to make.”

He smirked as he pulled back, flipping open his phone again, punching a button. Billy watched with a sinking heart as Greg strolled away, already saying, “Hey, Teddy, it’s me again.”

Greg turned the corner and disappeared from sight, but even still, Billy’s body felt drawn as a fist. He tried to make himself stand, but his legs were wobbly and his stomach was churning so hard he thought he’d puke. Kesler…Kesler was one thing. He was big but he was stupid. Greg was something altogether different. And Billy had no doubt that he could find a way to make both him and Teddy hurt before this whole thing was through.

Greg was holding all the cards.

Billy waited on the bench for a good fifteen minutes, slipping out his phone, eyes on the faceplate. When it finally lit up, Teddy’s name flashing, he wasn’t sure _what_ he felt. He flipped it open, shoulders hunching forward as he murmured, “Hello?”

“Hey, Billy,” Teddy said, and he didn’t have to say anything more—Billy could hear the coming blow in his tone. He braced for it, but it still hurt when Teddy said, sounding _gutted_, “I— I, um, I really hope you decided not to go all the way down to the park to wait for me. It turns out I can’t come after all.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I’m really sorry. I am so, so sorry, but I just, you know. Something came up, and I can’t say no. I wish I— You aren’t there yet, right? Tell me I at least caught you at your house.”

“It’s fine,” Billy said. “I was, um, anyway. It’s fine.”

“Okay. Okay. I, um. I’ll see you Tuesday?”

“Sure. Okay.”

Billy didn’t let Teddy say any more. He shut his phone and held it between numb hands, wondering if he’d ever really had a chance.

**

**CaptnAmazing:** Hey!  
_6:23 pm: Avngerfan2119 is away. _  
**CaptnAmazing:** Okay, cool, I’ll just wait right here.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Waiting.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Waaaiting.  
**CaptnAmazing:** Aw, come on, Billy. Come back!  
**CaptnAmazing:** I bet you’re on the phone with Teddy again, huh?  
_6:41 pm: Avngerfan2119 has signed off. _

**

Teddy straightened when Billy crossed the school lawn to him, already smiling in welcome. “Hey,” he said, flipping back the longish ends of his bangs. “So, I was thinking marshmallow shakes at Standburger.”

“I don’t know,” Billy said. “Do you think that may be too complicated for you?”

“…huh?”

Billy brushed past him, glancing both ways before heading across the street toward the park. Teddy jogged to catch up, brows drawn together in confusion, but Billy refused to do more than glance at him. He was so…

He’d had the whole rest of the weekend to mull it over and he was _pissed_. And under that, simmering low and hot, he was _hurt_. He’d left the park and had practically fled home to spend the weekend writing and deleting long, increasingly upset e-mails to Teddy. It was just…

It was just so _unfair_. It was unfair that someone like Greg could just snap his fingers and people like Teddy fell at his feet. It was unfair that Greg had the power to hurt them, was going to _keep_ hurting them.

“Hey.” Teddy grabbed Billy’s shoulder and Billy shrugged him off, turning to face him. He felt stupidly close to tears, but he swallowed them back. He swallowed it all back, meeting Teddy’s eyes, feeling almost like they were strangers again. “Billy, what happened? What’s wrong?”

_He wants to fix it_, Billy thought dully. _He doesn’t realize he’s the one that keeps making things fall apart_. “What did you do this weekend?”

That brought Teddy up short, surprise clear on his face. “I…what?”

“This weekend, when you called and said there was something that came up. What was it?”

Teddy just…stared at him. Frozen. Like he didn’t want to lie, but didn’t want to admit the truth, trapped between two conflicting impulses. _Greg tried to warn me off you_, Billy wanted to say—to shout, really, entire body trembling with it. _He acts like he owns you and you just put up with it_.

“Billy,” Teddy started to say, and Billy braced himself.

And then all hell broke loose.

The explosion came out of nowhere, close enough that the reverberation knocked them off their feet. Billy stumbled and went down hard, half on grass and half on asphalt. He felt a rending pain in his hands and knees, skin scraped raw as he tried to catch himself. “Fuck,” he gasped, feeling the ground rock beneath him. His trembling arms gave out and he twisted onto his side, aware of heat, flames and smoke rising from somewhere near. The school?

No.

The Avengers’ Mansion. 

He struggled to get up, but he felt weirdly off-kilter. The world was spinning unevenly around him and Billy had to squeeze his eyes shut and count to ten, waiting for the ground to settle back under his hands and knees. He staggered up…and fell to his knees again, palms leaving bloody smears in the grass.

“_Jesus_.”

“_Teddy_,” Billy rasped, turning his head. Teddy was struggling to sit up just a few feet away, the blood dripping from his nose leaving a gory Rorschach across his white t-shirt. Billy made a low noise and scrambled toward him, feeling weak and awkward and _scared_.

Teddy looked up at the touch of Billy’s hands on his shoulders, dazed blue eyes focusing. “Billy,” he gasped, reaching up to cup Billy’s face. The touch was warm, intimate, infinitely gentle. “Oh my God, Billy, you’re bleeding.”

Billy reached trembling fingers up to touch his forehead. There was a terrible dark cloud hovering over the mansion and the shifting scream of metal and crumbling stone nearly overpowered the panicked cries rising from the streets. “I’m,” he began, shaking his head against the overwhelming wall of sound. Blaring horns, people screaming, boots hitting the pavement as SHIELD agents streamed by, appearing (as they always seemed to) out of nowhere.

“Hey, you kids!” one of them paused to shout. He gestured roughly with his rifle as his squadron flowed around him, making a beeline for the mansion. “What the hell are you doing? Can you walk? You’ve got to get out of here.”

“We’re okay,” Teddy said, dropping his hands. His voice was oddly calm. “We’ll be okay. We’re on our way out now.”

Billy nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He staggered to his feet, unsteadily listing against Teddy as the SHIELD agent hesitated, then gave a jerky nod and left them. All around them, people were getting out of their cars and running. There were pileups across the lanes of traffic. Across the street, alarms were ringing and kids were pouring out the front doors of the school, adding to the mayhem.

“What do you think it is?” Billy asked, staring at the smoke coiling into the air. A fire truck had just arrived, men streaming over its sides and shouting at each other.

Teddy grasped his shoulder, pulling him away. “I don’t know, but the SHIELD agent was right. We should get out of here.”

“Do you think…” _they need help_, but what a stupid thing that was to wonder. If the Avengers needed help, they didn’t need it from _him_. “Okay,” Billy said, turning, making himself take a few steps away. With school officially over for the day, the evacuation plans would be in shambles, but he figured he and Teddy should fall in line anyway. It sounded like whatever the attack had been, it was over now, but that didn’t mean it all wouldn’t start up again, and—

“_BILLY_!”

Billy whipped around at the sheer terror in Teddy’s voice. Drops of blood stood out with macabre clarity against Teddy’s skin, his eyes big and round as he pointed up to the sky.

Up to where a jet was _crashing toward them_.

He’d seen the footage. Everyone in the whole _world_ had seen the footage, had watched the towers coming down. And now this, frozen in mute horror as the Avengers’ jet came tearing out of the sky, engines screaming, too fast, way too fast.

“Get down!” Teddy yelled, shoving Billy to the wet grass. Billy grabbed for him as Teddy threw his arms around their heads. He wanted to protest the way Teddy was angling his body to protect Billy’s, wanting to protect _Teddy_ instead, but there was no more time. The plane was there, right _there_, crashing with unimaginable power into the remains of the mansion.

There was a weird, still moment where all he felt was Teddy’s breath against his cheek. And then a fireball exploded across the sky, the shockwave like a physical assault.

Billy turned his face, and he thought he might be screaming, thought the whole _world_ might be screaming, but he couldn’t hear anything but a high-pitched ringing, echoing between his ears louder and louder and louder. Sparks and burning bits of metal fell around them in a hailstorm. Teddy curled his body tighter, one hand splayed over the top of Billy’s head. It felt like the world had stretched and stretched until it had snapped, like a sprung wire, vibrating crazily around him.

Then, all at once, the ringing went silent. Utterly, completely silent. Billy turned on his stomach, gagging at the stench of burning fuel, a cloud of dust and smoke settling around the park. Teddy fell to one side, gasping in a breath. Billy tried to drag himself up, but his arms trembled under his weight before giving out. He collapsed forward, face pressed against the grass, bloody fingers digging helplessly into earth.

Consciousness wavered, darkness rising and falling.

Finally, from a long way away, he could make out a single voice, and other noises soon followed—screaming and sirens and the roar of battle. He turned on his side, blinking up into Teddy’s face.

“What,” he tried to say, but his throat was raw. Teddy slid a hand around his back, helping him up, and he was saying something, but Billy couldn’t make out the words. He shook his head to try to clear it, but that only made it worse.

“—Billy? Billy?”

Billy blinked rapidly, trying to focus, vaguely aware that he’d probably hit his head pretty hard in the last aftershock. The world kept fading in and out of focus, like his life had suddenly become a movie: a movie complete with explosions and crashing planes and screaming crowds and a Hulk bellowing in rage.

Fuck, a Hulk? _Seriously_?

Billy leaned against Teddy. Teddy felt strong and whole against him, comforting in his familiarity. He wanted to just sink against him and stay there. He thought, maybe, with Teddy wrapped around him, he could block out the crazy blur of fear and horror threatening to overwhelm them. Billy pressed his face into Teddy’s chest, shivering lightly, holding on as the world rocked under their feet. Then, finally, Billy straightened, fingers curled in the front of Teddy’s ruined t-shirt.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. _Before things get even worse_.

They moved out into the street, picking their way through debris and crashed cars. The whole block was empty now, save for the frightened officer or two trying to help the wounded out of their cars. Billy craned his neck to see the huge crowd of people swarming down the avenue behind hastily erected barricades.

“Come on,” Billy said, but Teddy just frowned and stared at the school, drifting closer. The front entrance had been smashed by what looked like one of the jet’s wings, black smoke billowing from the twisted metal. The front steps were broken and bricks had been scattered like jacks across the seared yard. Billy drew in a hissing breath as he followed Teddy. If anyone had been _standing_ there when the jet came crashing down…

But it didn’t do any good to think about that. “Come on,” he said again, tugging. The roaring from the Avenger’s mansion was growing increasingly alarming, more and more uncontrolled with each passing minute. “Teddy, we really have to—”

“Do you hear that?”

“Um, YES, and I think we should be running right the fuck now!”

“_No_,” Teddy said, grabbing Billy’s wrist when he began to try yanking him down the street. “Not that. From the _school_.”

Oh fuck, what now, he wanted to say, but once he tried to block out the sound of the Hulk (the Hulk bellowing; the Hulk _seriously_ pissed _off_) he could hear it—faint, choking screams, coming from just beyond the crumbling entrance.

“Are there…are there people _trapped_ in there?”

They looked at each other, stunned. Teddy opened his mouth to say something, when all at once Captain Britain came flying out of nowhere and crashed into the wall almost above their heads, crumpling to the ground.

A few seconds later there was a roar and the _Hulk_ came tearing after her.

“Oh _fuck_!” Billy yelped, instinctively ducking and covering his head, _like that would do any good_. Captain Britain wasn’t moving, sword falling from her loosened grip. Billy felt more than saw the shadow towering above them, heard the crunch of glass and metal as the Hulk lifted a car high. “Teddy, get down!”

“Jennifer, it’s Clint, come on! Can you hear me?” Avengers were pouring out into the streets. “Please Just grab hold of—”

The Hulk’s—no, _She-Hulk’s_—bellow rocked the ground beneath his feet, and Billy was torn between conflicting impulses to run for it or just crouch as small as he could and hope she didn’t spot him. He grabbed for Teddy, trying to pull him close, wanting to shield him as much as possible as the car went flying, glass exploding everywhere.

And Teddy… Teddy pushed Billy’s arm aside and straightened, saying, “_Jennifer_, it’s okay,” in a voice that…wasn’t his.

Billy jerked his head up, staring up at…Quicksilver? Yes, _Quicksilver_, wearing Teddy’s clothes, holding his hands out in a conciliatory gesture.

She-Hulk snarled, face contorted. It didn’t even look like her, features swollen to several times their normal size, eyes tiny and crazed. But Billy wasn’t looking at her—he was staring at _Quicksilver_, shock making his body go hot and cold one after the other. He felt dizzy again, confused.

“Jennifer, no one’s trying to fight you,” Quicksilver was saying. “No one wants to hurt you. I promise, it’s going to be—”

And then She-Hulk went flying into a nearby vehicle, metal crunching, glass shattering and catching in tangled green hair as Iron Man swooped in from _nowhere_, heat discharge from his flight making the air ripple in his wake.

“—okay,” Quicksilver finished.

Billy staggered up with a choked gasp. She-Hulk shuddered, then went still, huge body going limp against the twisted metal. Iron Man circled once, then dropped to his feet, and other Avengers were swarming in.

Falcon dropped next to them, huge wing folding. “Do you hear kids screaming? Is there someone trapped in there?” he demanded, head cocked. Then, “Quicksilver, get on it. I’ll take Jennifer.”

Quicksilver grabbed Billy’s arm, yanking him close. “Can’t,” he said, then faster, as if he were trying to blur his words, “Got-to-take-care-of-this-one; you-can-get-them-out-Falcon.”

“Wait,” Billy said, struggling against the tight grasp as Quicksilver pulled him away. Falcon gave them a confused, angry look, but then Hawkeye shouted, “Tony! Cap’s trapped under a truck!” and Falcon turned toward the school with a curse.

“No,” Billy gasped. Hawkeye and Iron Man spoke in low, anxious voices next to an overturned vehicle. He moved toward them, reaching out, but Quicksilver pulled him around the corner of the building, grabbed him under the arms in a sudden, hard embrace and suddenly they were…

…airborn?

Strong arms tightened around his middle, shifting Billy’s weight as they rose up and up, then dropped a few feet, then rose again, as if he hadn’t quite gotten a hang of the whole flying thing. 

Billy twisted, looking up, and Teddy met his eyes. Quicksilver’s features were fading away, forming a crop of blond hair, earrings gleaming, familiar mouth twisting in worry before tightening in concentration. Teddy’s shoulders were a mottled tan-and-green, color darkening as it moved into the wings—big and membranous, like a dragon’s.

Billy turned his face away, fast, overwhelmed by everything that had happened as they staggered inelegantly through the air, away from the battle. He could see it below them, Falcon leading his trapped schoolmates out into the open, Iron Man lifting the truck off Cap’s still body, the mansion a smoking husk amongst the shreds of metal. Billy drew in a long, desperate breath, watching his heroes fight for their lives below him, and by the time Teddy brought them down onto a rooftop patio not far from his house, he was outright sobbing.

Teddy set him gently on his feet and dropped next to him, overbalancing a little against the tables with their big umbrellas. Billy watched through blurry eyes as those big green wings stretched, then started to fold in, becoming part of his skin and disappearing as if they had never been there.

Teddy shook himself off, dragging fingers across dusty, bloody skin, and then he was focusing on Billy, reaching for him.

“_Don’t touch me_!” Billy snapped. “What the _fuck_, Teddy?”

Teddy winced, looking away, then back again. “I know it looks bad,” he said. “But I just reacted. I didn’t know what else to do to stop her, and then I…I just wanted to get us out of there.” 

“You turned into Quicksilver. You made them think you were Quicksilver.” Billy clenched and unclenched his fists, processing, mind whirling. “…this isn’t the first time you’ve done it, either.”

Teddy flushed. Guilty. “No,” he admitted. “It wasn’t the first time.”

“Tell me.”

Teddy shook his head. “Billy, let’s just—”

“_Tell me_.”

That brought Teddy up short. He looked at Billy, brows drawn together, face still smeared with blood and dust. Finally, he pushed his fingers through his hair, nodding. “Okay,” he said. “I’m a mutant. A shapeshifter. And I’m strong, too, though I don’t know how strong. Mostly I just pretend to be people, which is why I guess… I guess it was just the first thing I could think of. I don’t do anything bad,” he added quickly at the look on Billy’s face. “Nothing really bad. I mean… I was the Hulk in Times Square, once, and Captain America at a Kappa Sig party and—”

“And Spider-Man outside Lotus,” Billy murmured.

Teddy flushed. “And Spider-Man outside of Lotus,” he agreed. “I do it because…I don’t even know why. Because of Greg, I guess. Because I want Greg to like me, because I like the attention, the thrill of it, so I do it. I know it’s wrong, but… But I’m not hurting anyone, and today I just wanted to calm her down so _we_ didn’t get hurt. I wanted to get us out of there. So I shifted. And I guess I should have told you before this, but I didn’t… I don’t know why I didn’t tell you, actually. I guess I’m just used to keeping it to myself. Only Greg knows for sure, and my mother.”

Billy stared at him, at a loss for words. Mind whirling, clicking the pieces into place, making the whole mess make sense.

Teddy slowly moved forward again. “Please,” he murmured. “God, please, say something.”

He was just three feet away. 

Two. 

Billy held up a hand.

Teddy stopped.

“You could have,” Billy said, voice hoarse with emotion and damage from this horrible, _horrible_ day. 

“Billy?”

“You could have. Hurt people. You could have seriously _hurt people_, Teddy.” Anger and hurt and loss were threading through him, making him shake, but his voice was remarkably steady as he stared down the boy he’d loved and known _nothing_ about, could not have _possibly_ known if he hadn’t known Teddy was capable of this. “What would you have done if the Green Goblin attacked Spider-Man when you were at Lotus? What if there was some emergency when Cap was playing _beer pong_ at Kappa Sig? And today— We were _so close_ to the middle of some kind of battle and Quicksilver, Quicksilver was _right there_. And Falcon asked him, you, to go be a hero. And you couldn’t. What if Falcon had left? What if they had just gone away and expected Quicksilver to save _those kids_, not knowing he was just some _stupid kid_ himself all along?”

Billy pushed at Teddy’s chest, not enough to do more than rock Teddy back on his heels, but Teddy went back a few steps, expression stung, shocked.

Billy didn’t care.

“You could have gotten people _killed_! You could have _killed people_, Teddy, all because, because you want to be _liked_? Because some _asshole_ will _like you better_?”

“You don’t know anything about it!” Teddy countered, flushing.

Billy shot him a cold, hard look. “No,” he said. “No, you’re right, I don’t know anything about it. And I don’t want to.”

The words seemed to hit Teddy like a physical blow. “Billy,” he said, anger diminished but layered with something deeper, more volatile.

“No,” Billy said. “My dad was right. Being friends with you, having…having some kind of crush on you…it’s me saying I’m okay with who you are, what you do. And I’m not. It’s _not okay_. It’s not okay to use your mutant gift to trick people, and to put them in danger, and to pretend to be a hero when you’re not, you’re not at all. And I’m not going to—I’m not. I’m out. I’m done.”

“_Billy_.” It came out shocked, almost heartbroken, but Billy refused to look. If he saw Teddy’s face, saw the pain in his eyes…he wasn’t sure he could see that and walk away. What Teddy had done, the danger he had put people in, the way he had squandered his talent on winning the affection of a boy like Greg, all that could still potentially fade in his head, be dwarfed by the memory of laughing blue eyes, and the warmth of his grin, and those stupid trailing shoelaces, and the taste of his mouth.

“Goodbye, Teddy,” Billy said, keeping his eyes down as he blindly fled for the door, desperate to be home with his mother and father and away from a world that suddenly didn’t seem so clear.

**

“…_unclear of the exact nature of the attack. The latest internet polls show Americans torn between yet another attempt on the Avengers’ lives by supervillain terrorist Kang the Conqueror or the first wave of a planned alien invasion_…”

**

It was like having a fever that wouldn’t go away.

Billy’s mother had been waiting when he got home, having rushed back from work when she’d heard the news. She grabbed him when he stepped through the door, crying fresh tears, pulling him against her body in a warm, safe, desperately glad embrace that nearly broke him all over again. The horror of it all was still on his tongue, embedded in his ripped clothes and torn skin. He felt shaky and unreal, as if everything that had happened was something he’d read in a story. A comic book.

“Oh my God,” Rebecca Kaplan gasped, hands framing his face, wiping the blood away. “Oh my God, my God, thank God.”

His father called shortly after, saying he had Andy and David with him, safe. Their school was several blocks away, far enough from the eye of the storm that no one had been hurt. They’d been evacuated calmly at the first sign of trouble, the New York school system too used to sudden battles breaking out in the streets to not know how to respond appropriately—and what did _that_ say about the world, Billy wondered dizzily, that there was a system in place for potential _alien invasion_?

He let his mother clean his cuts and bandage him up, then bully him into a shower and fresh clothes. She tried to take him straight to the emergency room, but he made her wait, wanting to see his brothers home safe, wanting his father, wanting as many people around him as possible to try to staunch this terrible, aching wound in his chest that no one else could see. He felt numb and hurt and _angry_ still as he sat hunched on the couch, watching live news coverage of the horrors.

Eventually, he did let his mother take him to the hospital, and they gave him something to help with the pain. He sat there in the emergency room, listening to his mother’s quiet conversation on the phone with his aunts.

He couldn’t let himself think. He couldn’t let himself feel.

When they got home again, Billy went straight to his room and curled up in bed, hiding his face under a pillow. He could hear the news drifting from his parents’ room, but there was nothing he could do. They weren’t letting people evacuate the city—it would cause even more chaos if they did. The analysts were talking like it was a numbers game—however many hundreds that could die if it really was just the beginning of a bigger battle versus the thousands that could die in a mass exodus.

“_In further news, billionaire Tony Stark lashed out today at a UN Summit, threatening the life of…_”

Billy kicked away his covers and slid out of bed, too restless to stay put. He grabbed a light jacket and jammed on his shoes, creeping down the steps on silent feet. David and Andy were in their own rooms, sleeping or pretending to sleep, and other than the television with its endless stream of horrible news, everything was quiet. Billy paused at the front door of his house, looking guiltily over his shoulder, before slipping outside. He locked the bolt, then palmed his keys, wrapping his arms around his middle.

Off toward Central Park, the night was still alive with smoke and the echo of explosions, like fireworks. Billy moved down his steps. The streets were filled with people—regular people, like him, watching the sky as dark shapes began to move across the stars, hovering low and menacing.

Spaceships.

_So it’s an invasion after all_, Billy thought tiredly. One of the women clutched her bathrobe tight around her breasts and moaned, “Oh no,” and a man cursed. Otherwise, no one spoke. No one ran.

Living here, Billy figured, you got used to the world ending. He supposed, looking at it that way, you could get used to almost anything. You could just roll over and accept it. Accept you had no power. Accept you had no choice. Accept there was nothing you could do to take a stand.

He clenched his fists, feeling the keys digging into his freshly bandaged palms, and watched the Avengers fight off the invading army high above the skies of Central Park.

**

“_…Stark Foundation is working with the city to declare Avengers’ Mansion a public landmark and memorial…the Avengers have officially disbanded._”

**

They were gone.

Billy stood on the front steps of Central Park East High after the last bell of the school year had rung, staring glumly toward the hollowed husk of the Avengers’ Mansion. One month ago, a huge piece of shrapnel had fallen right where he was standing, crushing the front entrance of the school. Now, the entrance had been rebuilt, the burned grass had been replanted, and everyone had thrown themselves into pretending that nothing had happened. But the Avengers were still gone.

He bit his lip, watching the skyline as students scattered on their way home. Hawkeye was dead. Ant-Man was dead. The Vision was destroyed. And the Scarlet Witch, his favorite Avenger, where was she? No one would say. No one was saying _anything_.

Billy clenched his fists, feeling helpless and still so _hollow_. He’d picked up the phone to call Teddy twice in the intervening month, and both times he’d forced himself to put his phone down and walk away from temptation. Go on a jog around the block. Go to a comic book store and pretend like he cared about the latest Batman release. Sandwich himself between Andy and David and listen to them squabble over the remote. Pretend not to feel distant and weightless, like a specter in their midst. Sometimes he heard tale of once-Avengers being spotted about the city, and a part of him would wonder…but he didn’t let himself ask. And Teddy had respected his wishes and hadn’t tried to contact him, not once.

Fuck, he hated how _disappointed_ he was by that.

Billy turned and numbly walked back into the school. He’d been on autopilot, heading out into the sunshine without even thinking, forgetting the locker still overstuffed with books and papers that needed to be cleaned out for the summer.

The halls were mostly empty, only a few students left. The thud of fist meeting flesh was low enough that most people would have missed it, but Billy knew that sound. He was so intimately familiar with it that he didn’t have to wonder even as he slowed, pausing in the open doorway to see.

Kesler. Kesler, and one of his friends, holding down a kid who couldn’t be more than thirteen.

“Come on,” Kesler was growling, meaty fists clenched, swinging. The boy cried out, sound muffled by one of Jones’ heavy hands, skinny body arching at the _thud, thud_ of blows landing, one after the other. Billy drew in a sharp breath, watching as Kesler pulled back for another blow. The weird feeling of numbness was beginning to evaporate, chased by the buzzing in his ears, the surge of sudden, electric heat. Billy took a step forward, clenching and unclenching his fists, watching as that boy, that _kid_, hunched small and lost and beaten. So familiar. So much like _him_.

_Stand your ground_, the Scarlet Witch had whispered. _See what happens_.

“Get away from him, Kesler.”

Billy straightened as the older, bigger boy turned on him, nails digging sharp into his palms. He felt a rush of terror, followed by a crazy, white-hot thrill, burning away the last of the depression that had dragged him down over the last month. He gasped in a sharp almost-laugh as Kesler moved toward him, one fist raised.

“Why?” Kesler growled, grabbing Billy’s arm and holding on tight enough to hurt. “Is he your boyfriend, Kaplan?”

He couldn’t explain the wild surge of power he felt, defiance rocketing through him as he smirked. “Is that your way of asking if I’m _single_?” Billy taunted, staring down the bully that had made his life hell for years. “’Cause you’re really not my type.”

The world seemed to freeze. Kesler let out a hot breath between his teeth, massive body _shuddering_ with rage. Then he erupted into motion. He threw back his arm and slammed it into Billy’s stomach, sending him sprawling to the ground. He yelled, “What did you say to me?” Billy’s head hit the floor, but he didn’t feel pain—rage was washing through him, brilliant and awful, and he narrowed his eyes against _years_ of impotent fury as Kesler drew back his fist and let it fly.

Billy lashed out, catching his fist in his palm. He shoved forward physically, mentally, pushing with everything he had. There was a loud _CRACK_ and the air filled with ozone. The hairs along his arm raised and his muscles tensed as he rose, pushing Kesler back, feeling…

Feeling _powerful_ for the first time in his _life_.

Lightning sparked around their joined fists, scattering and hitting Kesler’s upturned arm, his hip, his thigh, his _face_. Kesler shuddered in midair, body spasming as sparks hit the lockers, the _whoosh_ of power blowing a few off their hinges.

Billy heard screaming and smelled burning flesh. He gripped tighter, feeling the rage boiling inside, then suddenly jerked back. Lightning forked around his hands and Billy watched in horror as Kesler staggered and crumpled to the ground. His big body was shaking, still, little tremors of electricity working through his limbs, and the screaming was going on and on and on, until it filled his head, drowning everything else out.

Billy covered his ears, gasping, “Oh God, I—” He staggered, and the kid reached out to grab his arm, to help him. Lightning arced between them, and the kid’s cry rocked through Billy’s body. “I’m sorry!” Billy gasped, twisting away. Blue-white tremors were still skittering over his skin. “I’m—”

He turned on his heel and sprinted for the door. He slammed out into the sunlight and jumped down the steps to the ground below, bookbag slamming against his back. His breath was coming hard and fast, and he could _feel_ it, feel the power inside him, building up again as he raced across the street.

Horns blared, but he ignored them, stumbling into the park. He didn’t know where he was going; he didn’t have a _plan_. He just had to get out of there, had to get away, his mind turning over helplessly, sputtering on, _I killed him_ and _I’m a mutant_ and _I killed him_.

He tripped over a broken stone, one hand slamming out to catch himself, the bright lash of pain enough to make his body finally go still. Billy slowly crumpled forward, kneeling on the new spring-wet ground, and pressed his forehead against the jutting rock. Trembling.

He’d always imagined what it would be like to have powers. He’d always imagined what it would be like to be able to take Kesler down, to hurt him, even. But _this_…

This wasn’t how he’d wanted it to happen.

“Oh please,” he whispered, eyes squeezing shut. “Please, oh please, oh please let him not be dead. _Please oh please oh please_.”

Billy shivered, feeling his whole body clench with that one wish. He dug his fingers into the wet soil and wished with all his heart that he wasn’t a murderer, that his one, stupid, thoughtless act hadn’t ended a life. Even a life like Kesler’s.

“Please,” he said, one final time. He pressed his forehead against the grass and shivered, then slowly pushed himself up. His legs didn’t want to work right yet, so he sat cross-legged, staring at his hands. The sparks had died away, but if he concentrated, he could make the flashes of light dance over his palms. He squeezed his hands into fists, torn between conflicting sensations of fear and awe. 

There was a siren blaring, drawing closer. Billy rose unsteadily and moved toward the treeline, careful to keep himself hidden as the EMTs rushed inside the school. He stood by, gripping rough bark, holding his breath until they came out again, the boy walking just fine, looking stunned, Kesler—

Kesler in the gurney, but awake, gesturing. Alive.

Billy gusted out a breath and pressed his forehead against the tree trunk, letting the relief wash over him in long, shuddery waves. He was grateful down to his bones, aware of just how close he had come. Billy waited until the ambulance was cutting back into traffic before pushing himself away, dully walking in the opposite direction. He didn’t want to go home yet. He needed to think.

He couldn’t think.

Billy walked for some time, crossing the park twice, mind jumping uselessly, like static. He moved without paying attention to where he was going, treading old, familiar paths back and forth. When he finally stopped and squinted up at the sky, he wasn’t surprised to see that he’d come to the old Avengers’ Mansion. Aching inside, Billy moved slowly toward the front gates, which had been rebuilt around the husk of the mansion to keep the public out. They cast long shadows in the afternoon light, trees twisted and gnarled, grass burned clear. Billy moved to sit on a bench and set his bookbag beside him. He drew up his knees, arms dangling between them, and watched with dull eyes as shadows played around his feet.

He’d taken a stand, and he’d won. He’d beaten Kesler. He’d just always expected he’d feel more triumphant.

“Excuse me?”

Billy startled at the low, oddly electronic voice and turned his head. A few feet away, Iron Man stood watching him.

No. No, not Iron Man. He was shorter, slighter, and his suit was a little different. But…close enough that it _could_ have been Iron Man, if Iron Man had a sidekick. 

Billy straightened, studying the other boy. He couldn’t quite say why, but as he looked at him, anxiety began to fade. Between his curled fingers, lightning sparked anew.

“Are you all right?”

**

Next Issue: Teddy breaks free, Billy finds a purpose, and the Young Avengers meet for the very first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Acknowledgements: This story would be nothing without slanted_edges (Check out her Tumblr for amaaazing art.) Not only did she draw the most incredible pictures for Lonely Ghosts (found throughout), but she also acted as supereditor. She swept in and relentlessly beat the final third of the story (and me!) into shape. Thanks to her, the story is one thousand times better than it would have been. And one thousand times prettier. (Did I mention the art? Because omg the art. Please go and tell her how awesome she is.) I’d also like to thank mizzmarvel and baffledking, both of whom served as romance and sexiness judges. If this story isn’t romantic or sexy enough for you, blame them. (No, of course, blame me. They were amazing.)
> 
> There will be a sequel. In fact, there will be several sequels. This story closes out Teenage Wasteland (though that will remain as the series name). The next story will be from Teddy’s POV.


	3. Chapter 3

The sequel to Teenage Wasteland can be found here:

[Space Oddity](http://archiveofourown.org/works/833885).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Teenage Wasteland (Graphic Novel)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1900086) by [seraphatonin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphatonin/pseuds/seraphatonin)
  * [Nightswimming](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2518535) by [Khirsah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khirsah/pseuds/Khirsah)




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